ㅤSchrodinger told us that there’s a fifty percent chance that the cat in his box is either dead or alive up until that lid is opened.
ㅤSchrodinger — no matter how absurd it must’ve seemed to the eyes of the people — limited his imaginations not to the bounds of reality but a reality he deems too foreign to be accepted globally.
ㅤSo what truly limits us — people — in imagining things beyond our scope when one of our own made his a scientific breakthrough? Even when we’re called delusional or even optimistic, we are merely asking a simple question:
ㅤ“What if it was like this; what if it was like that?”
ㅤInsecurities linger in when a hopeful imagination looks too far beyond our reach. We devalue ourselves, trust less of what we’re capable of doing when things align and bottle ourselves.
ㅤAnd yet, we still wake up — wake up to the reality that sometimes lets it happen, allow it to happen, show it happen in real time. For as long as we gather and build ourselves up to strive for that one thing, nothing is impossible.
ㅤThe world’s one hell of a comedian. One point you know you’re in hell — then the next you’re in unimaginable bliss. I smiled to myself as I let my eyes drift open.
ㅤThe waves crashing echoing in my ears, the heat of the sun gently coating my skin, the cheers of people bellowing to the side.
ㅤI smiled. They laughed like it was their last. They cheered and cheered as if their team won the finals.
ㅤI smiled once again. I recognized these people — all too well. That one in blue got me through my first heartbreak. The one in dark green fisted my gut after I beat him in the punching machine. Or maybe even that one in burgundy that still owes me five bucks.
ㅤGawon, a woman of feline appearance, my Schrodinger’s cat — zero percent against me; a hundred percent present in my life.
Her eyes, the very eyes that she used to capture my feelings. As the graceful mover came closer, I was staring at her — silence clouded my mind and I was sucked into an internal tunnel where I was transported. I move my hands, wiggle my feet, my body responding to each movement that I want then…
The first scene was me holding the flimsy lightstick that I borrowed from my friend, funny that I don’t know the group so well but went to a concert with the little knowledge that I have just to discover Kpop. As the people around me were buzzing, literally their excitement was oozing, I couldn’t help but to wonder, why? Those artists probably didn’t know their fans’ name, life, or even yet, their existence.
Then the lights went off — then those girls appeared with a bang. The stage presence they flaunted was exceptional, people around me were in awe, some jumping like they’re in a rave, some weeping while singing with all of their hearts. The energy was through the roof and then the five girls separated to their desired sides, as a chance to interact with their fans.
As a person who got VIP seating, I was seated near the stage and they’re so close. So close that I saw her, the member who decided to go wave at our section. The tall one, Gawon.
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The local coffee shop was my staple. Great coffees, delicious pastries, and better yet, prices are generous. With my mocha drink and sweet bread, I thought that nothing would surpass the contentment until someone went to me, with a voice husky but soft.
“Hey, is this seat taken?” The girl asked as one thing that I didn’t notice was how full the cafe was.
“Please, I’m by myself,” I responded and she sat in front of me, setting her bag at the little table beside her — she looked familiar… and she looked at me with a smile. Gawon.
Fuck that smile, why did my heart suddenly beat? What is this?
“Congratulations on the successful concert,” I muttered without my dumb mind thinking. Gosh, she might think that I’m a creep. Great job (YN)
“Thank you, I saw you,” She saw me… she fucking saw me… what? How did she remember me? I looked at her with curiosity and she was just smiling at me softly — with her honey skin, make up was just a touch and presented to me was her natural beauty.
“I saw you holding TWICE’s sunbaenims lightstick, not ours,” Gawon finished with a chuckle while embarrassment entered my mind. I thought my friend gave me the right lightstick for the group… I’m so gonna kill him.
“I’m so sorry… that’s why it’s different from the others!” I facepalmed while Gawon just laughed with that smooth, melodic laugh. Like honey, her voice was so sweet light… and addicting?
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“So, what do you think of having strings attached to you even though it doesn’t matter?” Gawon asked from her book as I sipped my drink in peace, her eyes lingering at me with calmness and curiosity in the topic.
“Well… a string always leads to something. May not be in the future but certainly in the past,” I shrugged, looking at her to see if she was satisfied with my answer. “Look, a string doesn’t mean you’re only connected to a person, it also shows your improvement or bond with someone,”
“But the person doesn’t matter anymore, what’s the string for?” Having a curiosity of a cat, Gawon looked at me with her big doe eyes that mirrors confusion, interest, even more so, intrigue. As her gaze locks on me — I was lured in this invisible labyrinth… a place where instead endless walls are present, all I see is her, her smile, the mole on her nose, her eyes, the smile, her — Gawon.
“Yo (YN), you like me that much?” I was pulled out in my trance, making me shake my head and look at her damn beauty again. “Assuming much?” I downplayed her suspicion but in reality, my heart is fluttering like it's new to me. Never have I ever felt this but… I would like for it to happen again.
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“Wake up you snoreasss, let me sleep you idiot!” Gawon flimsy threw a pillow towards me but it immediately met the floor. The groggy morning monster was in full effect as the flailing of her long arms continued to hit my sides with its 100 speed and 0 power. Don’t be fooled by Gawon though, she can be the most ethereal person in the whole world until you annoy her and ohhhh boy — “Don’t talk to me” She quietly said, with a firm resolve and then, silence.
The lack of sound was eerily tensing that even a drop of a hairpin would be heard and then, I jolted. I woke up and the first thing I saw was her back and in my mind I was like
“Oh shit. I’m fucked,” My clouded mind was alerted and all fatigue was sucked out of me.
“Gawon~ good morning,” I cooed in order to save myself in the upcoming silent treatment that will happen. The sweetest tone came out of me even though I find it cringe as well but again, anything to alleviate the punishing silence she’s planning.
At this point of our lives, the common interests of us reading books nurtures into something more lovely. Though with the difficulties her job possesses, we mutually agreed to take our friendship into another level — a level that I’m not expecting to be fair.
“Eggs and bacon. Make my go to coffee and let’s talk,” Gawon’s body flipped like a dolphin just to face me. Though her disheveled hair, drool stains, and husky voice are evident, the mischievous eyes she has shows something grim inside her mind.
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I stumped the floor of their practice room with Sooin basically scribbling notes and blackmails she will use against me in the future while my miserable body kissing the cold hardwood was left alone neglected by my girlfriend and one of her members. “Not bad babe, considering the demanding choreography we have, you did well!” Gawon cheered and praised me despite my current state.
“There’s a reason… why… I’m doing… accounting…” I speak like a dog who ran a 10km nonstop full-sprint , panting heavily as I gasp every inch of oxygen available in the room. Though desperation was in my mind, the idols looked at me in mockery as they stifled a laugh at my puddled body.
“Get up whiny puppy,” Gawon pulled my arms up with no resolve as I’m just jelly at this moment.
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She’s there… in front of me, wearing the long white dress that we long to see her wearing. Gawon was so close that it made me want to just reach out to her — crush her in the biggest and fattest hug that I can give her as my emotions go haywire from sheer joy and excitement.
Without a doubt, I reached my hands to her as she looked at me with her eyes with its brown hues that are so soft, warm, and — my home. Yes, that’s it. I’m home when I’m with her.
The girl went beside me as I helped her with the silky dress she handpicked for our special day. The unexplainable beauty, personality, and qualities she already has factors in the kind of woman she will be. Many people may have known her as MEOVV’S Gawon but I got a rare card to know her as the real Lee Gawon, the real her — the woman who will share the name with me.
As we wait for us to be one, I can’t help but to chuckle a bit and look at Gawon who was now looking at me weirdly with that iconic disgust face she uses on me almost every week . “I remember that you were shaking before this,” I whispered to her and she responded quite rapidly “Because of Ella and her brainrots, maybe shenanigans she will do after the ceremony;” Gawon clicked her tongue at the idea, making me stifle more.
“As we witness the celebration of the unification of the couple in front of us today, may I invite you all to watch them share the love and joy that unites them…” The minister pronounces the opening words of the ceremony and my hands crept on top of hers — holding hers as she intertwined with mine — she took a peek at me with a subtle smile, and then held my hand tighter, leaning closer to me as she whispers;
“I’m ready…. Let’s open another chapter of you and me,”
Fluff: male reader fell first and fell harder. It's up to you how you will execute the story, like how they meet, what's the reason why he fell for her, and how she admitted that she likes him too.
Angst: Fans' reaction to their dating news and how they almost broke up. But in the end, they prove to their fans that their relationship is not a company gimmick but a pure love between two people.
MORE THAN A RUMOR
LE SSERAFIM Kazuha X Male Reader
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The first time you meet Kazuha, you’re standing in a backstage hallway, pretending not to be as nervous as you are.
It’s your first comeback as a soloist in almost a year. The music show’s corridor smells like hairspray, sweat, and instant coffee. Staff rush past with clipboards and headsets; idols in stage outfits flit in and out of dressing rooms. Your in-ears feel too tight, your throat too dry, and every time you look at the stage monitor you’re convinced you’ll blank on your own lyrics.
You step out of your dressing room for air, tugging your mask down just enough to breathe. The hallway is dimmer here, far from the main waiting rooms, quieter except for—
Humming.
You recognize the melody before you even process it.
It’s your pre-chorus. The one you spent three all-nighters perfecting, obsessing over the way the notes rise and then drop, the emotional twist in the phrasing. Someone is humming it perfectly in tune, like they’ve listened to it more than once.
You follow the sound around the corner.
She’s standing there in practice clothes and stage makeup, mask tucked under her chin, ponytail swaying as she moves. No cameras, no members, no stylists—just Kazuha, alone, counting under her breath and marking choreography with small, precise gestures.
Your pre-chorus spills out of her softly, almost absent-mindedly.
For a second, you just…stop. The lights above flicker slightly, reflecting off the polished floor and the silver of her earrings. Her expression is serious as she checks herself in the narrow hallway mirror, adjusting her posture, tightening her core.
“Ah—sorry.”
Your voice comes out before your brain catches up. She startles, spinning around so fast her ponytail swings.
“Omo—” She jumps a little, then laughs, a tiny embarrassed sound as she straightens and bows quickly when she recognizes you. “Annyeonghaseyo. I—I didn’t see you there.”
Up close, she looks even more unreal. Clear eyes, neat eyeliner, the kind of elegance that cameras like, but it’s the little things that hit you: the faint crease between her brows from concentration, a dot of glitter caught near her lower lashes, the way she still seems slightly out of breath from practicing even in the hallway.
You bow back automatically. “Ah, no, I’m sorry for interrupting. I just heard… my song.”
Her eyes widen. “Ah! Right. I’m so sorry. It just got stuck in my head after rehearsal. I didn’t mean to be loud.”
You shake your head quickly. “No, it’s… it’s fine. I was just surprised.”
She laughs again, this time more relaxed. “It’s really good. The way the melody climbs in the pre-chorus—it feels like you’re holding your breath. I like it.”
You blink.
You’ve had critics, producers, other singers compliment your work, but most of them talk in technical terms. She just described exactly what you were trying to do, in a single sentence.
“Thank you,” you say, and it comes out more earnest than you intended. “I, uh—I watched your rehearsal earlier. Your stage was… really strong.”
She ducks her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “We’re still working hard. I get nervous about live performances.”
“You?” You can’t help it. “You’re Kazuha. You’re like… always stable.”
She scratches her cheek lightly, eyes darting away. “I was a ballerina before, so I practiced performing a lot. But choreography, stamina, live vocals as a group, cameras everywhere… it’s still new sometimes.”
There’s no one else in this stretch of the hallway. Just distant echoes of MCs announcing segments and staff shouting timing cues. For a fleeting second you realize: this is one of those rare, unfilmed moments idols talk about later, the ones that never make it into behind-the-scenes footage.
You shift your weight, fingers closing around the lyric sheets still in your hand. “I’m… uh, I’m nervous too. It’s my first comeback in a while.”
She tilts her head, studying you. Her gaze is focused but soft, not the camera-ready stare fans scream over, but something quieter, more attentive.
“You’ll do well,” she says simply. “Your live stages are always really emotional. A lot of my friends are fans.”
Something warm flickers in your chest.
“Tell your friends thank you,” you reply. “And… thanks for humming my song.”
She laughs, eyes crinkling just a bit. “Sorry in advance if I mess it up on TikTok later.”
You open your mouth to respond, but a staff member calls her name from down the hall.
“Kazuha-ssi! Standby!”
She jerks slightly. “Ah—yes!” She gives you another quick bow, eyes meeting yours with a flash of shy energy. “I’ll cheer for your stage too.”
You watch her jog away, ponytail swaying, before the hallway empties again.
You look down at the lyric sheet in your hands.
Somewhere between the pre-chorus she hummed and the way she said she was nervous—so ordinary, so human, so unlike the polished clips you’ve seen online—you feel something tiny click inside your chest.
You don’t call it anything yet.
You just know you walk back to your dressing room lighter than before.
You see her again two weeks later, at a year-end special recording.
The dressing room you’ve been given is shared with a band and another soloist. The monitor shows a rotating highlight reel of different performances: explosive stages, sparkling outfits, neon stages. Between schedule notes and touch-ups, someone mentions a “vocal x performance” collaboration segment.
You’re halfway through sipping lukewarm coffee when your manager taps your shoulder.
“They want you for a special stage. With an idol group member,” he says. “A short dance-vocal collab. Two rehearsals max. You okay?”
You nod automatically. “Who’s the other artist?”
He scrolls his phone. “LE SSERAFIM’s Kazuha-ssi.”
Your hand tightens around the paper cup.
“Oh,” you say casually, heart doing something absolutely not casual. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
The rehearsal room is already buzzing when you step in. Dancers stretch along the walls, the choreographer is going over counts with the assistant, and in the center, she’s there.
Kazuha stands in full-length mirror reflection, hair tied in a low ponytail this time, warm-up hoodie loosely hanging off one shoulder. She’s practicing a spin multiplied by three, bare feet brushing over the practice floor, expression completely absorbed.
“Five, six, seven, eight—good, good, that’s it,” the choreographer says, then notices you. “Oh, [Name]-ssi! Great, you’re here.”
You bow. “Annyeonghaseyo.”
Kazuha sees you in the reflection and spins around, a flash of recognition brightening her face.
“Oh! [Stage Name]-ssi!” She bows quickly. “We meet again.”
“It’s good to see you,” you say, and you mean it more than you should, considering you’ve only exchanged a few sentences in a hallway. “I heard we’re partners.”
She laughs softly. “Yes. I hope you don’t regret it.”
You’re about to insist there’s nothing to regret, but then the choreographer claps to get your attention.
“So the concept,” he explains, “is a short narrative. You start on opposite sides, drawn to each other through music and movement. [Name]-ssi, you’ll sing live while doing some simple steps. Kazuha-ssi, you’ll have more detailed choreography—help him look good, okay?”
Kazuha nods dutifully. You chuckle weakly. “I’ll try not to make her job too hard.”
Your sense of rhythm is fine; it’s translating that into your body that’s never been your strong suit. As you begin learning the routine, that becomes more obvious.
“Left, right, step—no, your weight’s still here,” Kazuha says gently a few minutes later, standing close enough for you to feel the faint warmth radiating from her. She taps your ankle lightly with her toe. “If you leave your weight on your back foot, it’ll look heavy. Try shifting before you move.”
You try again. It’s clumsy. You mess up the turn. You nearly bump into her.
“I’m so sorry,” you blurt.
She laughs, the sound quick and bright. “It’s okay. See?” She steps closer, positions herself next to you. “We can do it slowly first.”
She counts under her breath, guiding you through the steps. Her hand hovers near your elbow, never quite touching, but close enough you can imagine the way her fingers might feel if she did.
“Better,” she says when you manage a cleaner transition. “You learn fast.”
“I have a very good teacher,” you say before you can stop yourself.
She blinks, then smiles—really smiles, the kind that makes her eyes curve slightly into crescents.
During breaks, you steal glances at her reflection while you pretend to focus on your water bottle or your phone. You notice how she unconsciously rises to half-pointe when she’s thinking. How she rolls her ankles gently to relieve pressure. How seriously she listens to the choreographer’s notes, brows knitting in concentration.
“Do you always work this hard?” you ask during a short pause, when the choreographer steps out to answer a call.
She looks at you, tilting her head. “Hmm?”
“Even for a four-minute special stage.”
She shrugs lightly, tugging at her hoodie string. “If there’s a camera, I want to respect the people watching. And…” She glances at the mirror. “I don’t like feeling unprepared.”
There’s something reassuringly familiar about that. You think of nights hunched over your laptop, rewriting the same bridge seven times because the first six didn’t feel right.
You smile. “I get that.”
As rehearsal goes on, you grow more comfortable. Your bodies start to anticipate each other’s spacing. The moment where you walk toward each other at the song’s emotional peak—hands almost touching, her hair catching the light—especially makes your chest feel weirdly tight.
Once, you catch her humming your latest chorus under her breath between counts.
“You listened to it?” you ask.
She nods without thinking. “Ah, yes. I really like the second verse. The line about ‘finding a quiet place in a loud room’… it’s nice.”
You blink. That line isn’t the kind of thing casual listeners remember. “You… listen closely.”
She presses her lips together, like she’s only just realized what she admitted. “I… like lyrics,” she says after a beat. “And your voice makes them sound more… real.”
Something in your ribcage tilts off its axis a little.
That night, you lie in bed staring at your ceiling, replaying her voice in your head instead of your own song.
You tell yourself it’s just admiration. Just respect between artists.
You don’t say the word “crush.”
Not yet.
The late-night practice room encounter happens by accident.
You’ve booked the small studio on the 9th floor of your company’s building for a last-minute rehearsal before a festival. Your choreographer can’t make it, but you still want to feel the spacing, so you take your laptop, a speaker, and the vague hope that muscle memory will show up if you bribe it with caffeine.
The door is slightly ajar when you arrive.
You frown. “Hyung said this room was free…”
You knock lightly and slide it open.
Kazuha’s there.
She’s sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, hoodie discarded in a corner, tank top clinging to her from sweat. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun this time, a few strands stuck to the sides of her face. The room smells faintly of effort—body heat, faint perfume, the rubber scent of the floor.
She jumps, eyes wide, when she sees you in the mirror. “Oh! [Stage Name]-ssi?”
You bow, closing the door behind you. “Oh, wow, I didn’t know you used this building.”
She laughs weakly, wiping her forearm across her forehead. “We borrowed it from your company today because the HYBE practice rooms were all full. I thought everyone went home already.”
“Almost everyone,” you say. You hold up your bag. “I booked this room from ten.”
She winces. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pack up—”
“No, it’s fine,” you cut in quickly. “I can go find another one.”
She glances at the clock. 10:02 p.m. Her shoulders tense slightly as she looks back at the mirror, the saved choreography video still looping on her phone screen.
“Um…” She lowers her gaze, hesitates. “If you don’t mind… can we… share? I can stay on this side. I won’t bother you.”
You should say you need full space. You should be professional, insist on privacy, focus on your own work.
Instead, you hear yourself say, “Of course. I’ll just use half.”
You set up your speaker in the corner opposite hers. Your playlists mix accidentally when both your Bluetooths connect at once, sending both of you into a brief fluster as you disconnect, reconnect, apologize.
Once the music settles, an easy silence spreads.
You run your chorus on one side, stumbling over a tricky footwork section. She practices a turn sequence on the other, drilling the same three-count until it slices cleaner through the air.
After about twenty minutes, you mess up the same step for the third time in a row.
“Argh,” you mutter. “Why is this so hard.”
From the other side, she pauses, then speaks, voice soft.
“Can I see?”
You glance at her in the mirror. She’s standing with a towel thrown around her shoulders, bottle of water in hand, expression curious but not judgmental.
You hesitate, then nod. “Sure.”
You run through the section again. It’s not terrible, but it doesn’t look natural. Your upper body is too stiff, your transitions too obvious.
She watches silently, eyes following each beat.
“Can I… show you?” she asks.
“Please,” you say, more desperate than you intend.
She laughs quietly and crosses to your side. In the mirror, your reflections line up—two very different silhouettes, both marked by the industry in different ways.
“Here,” she says, stepping into your position. She mimics your footwork but loosens her shoulders, letting the beat carry through her, body moving like it’s part of the song rather than trying to ride on top of it. “You’re keeping everything up here”—she taps her own chest—“but you’re not letting your hips move.”
“My hips,” you repeat, deadpan. “Right.”
Her ears go a little pink. “Ah—I mean, um—if you loosen your knees a bit, and don’t think of it as separate steps. Think of it like… water?” She tilts her head, searching for the right words. “Flowing.”
You try again, focusing less on the counts and more on that word: flow. Her earlier explanations. The warmth of her presence just over your shoulder.
“Better,” she says after your third attempt. “You look more comfortable.”
“I feel less like a malfunctioning robot,” you admit.
She laughs, covering her mouth. “You weren’t that bad.”
You exchange a look in the mirror—your eyes meet hers, and for a second the world outside this room doesn’t exist. Just the two of you, sweat and breath and shared exhaustion.
“You’re always practicing,” you say quietly, more statement than question.
She shrugs, glancing at the playlist on her phone. “I have to. There are a lot of people watching. I don’t want to disappoint my members. Or my fans. Or myself.”
The way she says that last part makes something inside you tighten. You know that line well. You’ve rehearsed it to your own reflection more times than you want to admit.
“Do you ever… get tired?” you ask.
Her smile is small. “Every day.”
You blink. “Really?”
She nods. “But when I’m on stage, I remember why I started. When I see comments from fans saying my performance gave them strength, or when my members say I did a good job… it feels worth it. Most days, anyway.”
You sink down onto the floor without really thinking. She does the same, leaving a polite gap between you.
“Sometimes I forget why I started,” you admit. “When it’s deadlines and charts and streaming counts… it feels like I’m just running to not fall behind.”
She hugs her knees lightly, looking at your reflection instead of your real face. “Then… maybe you need someone to remind you.”
You turn your head. “Who reminds you?”
“My members,” she says instantly, with a small smile. “And… people like you.”
“Me?” You scoff lightly. “I just mess up choreography in front of you.”
She shakes her head. “You make songs that sound like feelings I can’t explain. They help me remember I’m not just… an idol on a schedule.”
Your chest feels suddenly too small for your heart.
“Thank you,” you say, because it’s all that fits through your throat.
Her phone buzzes; her manager asking if she’s done. She stands, stretching her legs. “I should go.”
“Right. Yeah. Thank you for the help.”
She slips her hoodie back on, slinging her bag over one shoulder. At the door, she pauses, turning back.
“Ah, [Stage Name]-ssi?”
“Yeah?”
She bites her lip, then lets go. “If you ever feel like you’re forgetting why you started… you can text me. I’ll remind you.”
You stare at her, momentarily speechless.
“Do I… have your number?” you ask, brain lagging.
She laughs, cheeks coloring. “Not yet.”
You fumble for your phone.
You save her contact as just her name at first. Later, alone in the empty practice room, you change it to “Zuha 🕊️” before quickly deleting the emoji, replacing it with a simple “Zuha”.
You don’t notice the exact moment you fall, not fully.
You just realize a week later that you’re refreshing your messages more often than you check your streaming numbers.
Texting with her starts as “practice coordination” and turns into everything else.
Zuha:
Did you eat?
You:
Yeah, you?
Zuha:
We just finished. I’m so sleepy
She sends a selfie: messy ponytail, face bare, only the faint redness of exertion on her cheeks. She’s making a soft pout at the camera.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard longer than necessary.
You:
Rest well.
Your shoulders must hurt from carrying every stage
You stare in horror. Too much. You start to hit delete, but a “typing…” bubble pops up.
Zuha:
ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ what is this
I’ll tell my members you said that 😂
You exhale.
Over the next few weeks, your conversations range from silly to strangely deep:
Zuha:
Do you ever feel like your voice doesn’t belong to you anymore?
You:
All the time. Like it’s a product.
Zuha:
Like your face, your body, your reactions are… things people can buy
You:
And review and score out of 10
She sends a little “ㅜㅜ” and then, a moment later:
Zuha:
I think that’s why I like your songs
They sound like they still belong to you
You stare at that message for a long time.
You start recommending music to each other. She sends you classical pieces she used to dance ballet to; you send her obscure indie tracks that never charted but burrowed into your brain anyway. She sends pictures of convenience store ice creams with captions like “This tastes like your bridge” and you pretend you understand until you try it yourself and realize she’s strangely right.
You write a new song one night.
It starts as a throwaway progression on the piano, but then you think about the way she stretches her arms before dancing, the way her voice goes soft when she talks about her members, the line she texted you about your voice still “belonging” to you.
Lyrics come in half-formed phrases:
You move like you don’t know the world is watching Still searching for a quiet place in a screaming crowd…
Halfway through the second verse, you stop and lean back.
The realization hits you like delayed impact from a fall.
You’re writing about her.
Not the idol “Kazuha” the fans clip and edit and post fancams of.
Her.
The girl who hums your songs in empty hallways, who works too hard in borrowed practice rooms, who texts you late at night about fears and jokes and weird ice cream metaphors.
Your pulse picks up. You feel both foolish and helpless.
You’re a songwriter. You turn experiences into melodies as naturally as breathing.
Of course your heart would find its way in there.
You listen to the demo again, just the rough piano and your raw, unfiltered vocal.
You’ve fallen.
Very, very badly.
You don’t confess immediately.
You tell yourself it’s because the timing is bad—she’s in the middle of promotions, you’re prepping for a mini album, both your schedules are insane. You tell yourself it’s because of the industry, because idols and dating scandals, because fans and companies and contracts and image.
You tell yourself a lot of things.
None of them stop your heart from jumping each time your phone vibrates with her name.
The night she comes to your concert, you don’t know she’s there until afterward.
The show is a blur. The screams, the lights, the swell of the band behind you, the way your voice cracks slightly on a high note of purposefully emotional effect. You pour everything out, every piece of fear and hope and quiet longing. When you sing the new, still-unnamed song you wrote about her, the audience waves their lightsticks slow and soft, filling the venue with stars.
Backstage, drenched in sweat, high on adrenaline, you’re halfway through chugging water when your phone buzzes with a new message.
Zuha:
You did so well. I’m proud of you.
You freeze.
You:
You watched??
Zuha:
👀
A few minutes later, your manager tells you someone’s waiting in the staff corridor.
You step out, still in your stage outfit, hair damp, a towel draped around your shoulders.
She’s there. Cap pulled low, mask on, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. Even like this, even half-hidden, you recognize her instantly.
“Hey,” she says softly, pulling her mask down once the hallway door shuts behind you.
Your heart does something very inconvenient in your chest.
“Hey,” you echo, voice a little rough from performing. “You… came.”
She nods, eyes crinkling. “I asked the company quietly. They said as long as I stayed out of sight and didn’t post anything…” She shrugs. “I wanted to be here.”
You swallow. “You’re supposed to rest on your off days.”
“So are you,” she counters. “But you decided to sing for two hours straight.”
You huff a quiet laugh.
She steps closer, holding out a small paper bag. “I brought these. For after.”
Inside: a bunch of vitamin packs, throat lozenges, and your favorite brand of honey lemon drink.
You look up at her.
“How did you…?”
“You posted it once on your story,” she says, suddenly shy. “I remembered.”
Your chest feels too full. Too tight.
“Thank you,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly in a way that has nothing to do with physical strain.
She hesitates, then says, “When you sang that new song… the one about finding a quiet place… it was really beautiful.”
You laugh weakly. “It’s not finished yet.”
“It felt finished,” she replies. “Like… like you really meant every word.”
You did. Maybe more than she knows.
She glances around the empty hallway, then back at you. Her eyes shine even under the harsh backstage lighting.
“I’m really proud of you,” she repeats, softer now. “Seeing you on stage like that… it made me want to work harder too.”
You don’t know what to do with all this—her words, her presence, her support. It feels too big for the tiny space you’ve carved for “just colleagues” in your head.
You take a breath. Your heart beats, loud and insistent—now, now, now.
“Zuha,” you say quietly.
She looks up. “Hmm?”
“Can you… come to the studio tomorrow? I want to show you something.”
The studio is your safest place and your most dangerous one.
There’s a reason you asked her to meet you here.
She arrives the next evening in a simple sweater and jeans, mask and cap covering most of her face in the hallway, but she relaxes a little once she’s inside, door shut behind her. Your laptop glows faintly from the desk. The room is small but familiar: keyboard, monitors, messy scribbled lyrics on the wall.
“Wow,” she says, looking around. “So this is where all your songs are born.”
“Some of them,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Some are born in taxis and on bathroom floors.”
She laughs. “Relatable.”
You sit at the desk, hands hovering over the keyboard. Your heart thumps so loudly you’re sure the condenser mic could probably pick it up.
“I, uh… I wanted to show you a demo.”
Her eyes light up. “A new song?”
You nod. “It’s… not finished. And it’s not for any confirmed album yet. I just… wanted you to hear it.”
“Okay,” she says. She moves closer, pulling the spare chair beside you. Your knees almost touch. You feel the warmth of her shoulder near yours.
You hit play.
The piano intro is soft, familiar to you now. Your voice comes in, raw and unpolished, the guide vocal you recorded at 2 a.m. one night when you couldn’t stop thinking about her.
You move like you don’t know the world is watching Eyes on the ground but you still light the room… You laugh like you’re allowed to be that honest In a life where everything is timed to a tune…
You don’t look at her. You can’t.
You stare at the waveform moving across the screen instead, your heartbeat synced to the peaks of the chorus.
In a crowd that never stops screaming You’re the only quiet that I find When the stage becomes a prison You’re the one who leaves the door unlocked behind…
Your voice trembles slightly on that line, more emotion than technique.
I know it’s selfish just to feel this In a world that loves a story more than truth But every time the cameras start to focus All I see is you…
By the time the demo fades out, your palms are damp.
You stop the track. Silence settles between you, heavy and fragile.
You risk a glance at her.
She’s staring at the monitor, lips parted slightly, eyes glossy in a way that makes your stomach drop. Her fingers are curled loosely in her lap, knuckles almost white.
“Wow,” she whispers.
You swallow. “It’s… rough. I haven’t figured out the bridge yet and the mix is—”
“Is it about someone?” she asks quietly, cutting you off.
Your heart lurches.
You could lie.
You could say it’s fictional, a composite, “inspired by the industry.” It’s what most people expect when they ask.
But something in her face—open, vulnerable, a little scared—pulls the truth out of you.
“It is,” you say slowly. “About someone I… care about.”
Her throat works. “Oh.”
You look down at your hands. “I didn’t plan to write it. It just… happened. The more I talked to them, the more time I spent with them, the more the song formed on its own.”
You take a breath.
“And I know I shouldn’t,” you continue, voice unsteady now. “Not in this industry, not with everything we signed up for. But pretending it isn’t there doesn’t make it go away. I tried. For weeks. All it did was make the song worse and my head louder.”
The air in the room seems to thin.
“I’m not playing this to pressure you,” you add quickly. “I just… I didn’t want to lie. Not to you. Especially not to you.”
You finally lift your gaze, meeting her eyes.
“Kazuha… the song is about you.”
She inhales sharply. You see her fingers tighten in her lap, then relax.
“I—” She stops, biting her lower lip.
You push on, the dam broken.
“I liked you from the first time I saw you in that hallway,” you admit, each word feeling like it’s being pulled from somewhere deep. “You were humming my song and worrying about getting your stage right, even when no one was watching. And then the rehearsals, the late practice, your messages—”
You laugh weakly, self-deprecating. “You made this… big world feel a little bit smaller. A little less lonely. I started looking forward to your texts more than anything else in my day. That’s… not normal for me.”
You run a hand through your hair. “I know it’s complicated. I know you have your group, your fans, your future. I know I can’t just show up with a demo and expect anything. But I wanted you to know. Honestly. If you don’t feel the same, I’ll do my best to pull back. I’ll never talk about this publicly. I’ll respect whatever you decide.”
Silence stretches after your words, filled only by the soft hum of your computer.
She doesn’t speak right away.
Part of you expected that. Still, the quiet gnaws at your chest with each passing second.
“I…” She finally exhales shakily. “I don’t know what to say.”
You nod, forcing a tiny smile. “You don’t have to say anything right now.”
She glances at you and then away quickly, as if the contact is too much. “Can I… have some time?”
“Of course,” you say instantly, even though every selfish part of you wants an answer right now, even if it hurts.
She stands, fingers brushing the edge of the desk. “Thank you for telling me. And… for the song.”
You walk her to the door. Before she steps out, she looks back, eyes searching yours like she’s looking for something she’s not ready to name.
“I’ll… text you,” she says softly.
And then she’s gone.
You lean against the closed door, heart pounding in the quiet.
For the first time in a long while, you’re more afraid of an unread message than a bad review.
She doesn’t text that night.
Or the next day.
She sends a few scattered replies about schedule overlaps and “sorry, busy T.T” but they’re surface-level, polite. You understand why. You give her space. You pour yourself into work, into mixing, into pretending nothing has changed even as everything has.
Three days later, your phone buzzes at 1:03 a.m.
Zuha:
Are you awake?
You’re halfway through rereading an email you don’t care about. You sit up.
You:
Yeah
Everything okay?
There’s a pause. The typing bubble appears and disappears a few times.
Zuha:
Can we meet?
There’s a convenience store near our dorm… behind the building
It’s usually empty at this time
Your heart leaps.
You:
I’m on my way
You throw on a hoodie, mask, and cap, and slip out with a quick word to your manager about “late-night snack run.” He grumbles but lets you go.
The convenience store is almost deserted when you arrive. Fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead. The refrigerated section hums in the back. A sleepy cashier scrolls their phone behind the counter.
Then the door jingles and she walks in.
She wears a long padded coat, hood up, mask on. To anyone else, she’s just another anonymous idol trying not to be recognized. To you, she might as well have a spotlight.
You both wander through the aisles separately at first, playing the unspoken game of “we don’t know each other” until you end up, inevitably, in front of the instant ramen.
You reach for the same flavor.
Your fingers brush.
You both pull back like you’ve been burned, then exchange a look over your masks.
“Hi,” you say quietly.
“Hi,” she echoes.
You grab some snacks you don’t really want, just to look normal, then pay separately before walking out together, keeping a small distance between you until you turn the corner into the darker, quieter side street behind the store.
Here, with the store light only a faint glow and the city hum softened, you finally allow yourselves to relax slightly. She pulls her mask down, cheeks faintly pink from the cold.
“Thank you for coming,” she says.
“Thank you for asking,” you reply. “I wasn’t sure if you… wanted space.”
“I did,” she admits. “But… I also didn’t.”
You wait.
She exhales slowly, watching her breath form a little cloud in the air.
“When you played me that song,” she begins, “I felt… a lot of things. I was touched. A little shocked. Very flattered.” She smiles weakly. “And very scared.”
You nod, throat tight. “I get it.”
“There’s so much at stake,” she continues. “My group, my members, our fans. Your career, your image. We both know how this industry reacts to… this kind of thing.”
She hugs herself, more for comfort than warmth.
“But,” she says, voice softening, “I realized something the last few days. I was already scared. Even before you said anything. That’s why I didn’t let myself… think too much when you texted me. Or when you asked for my help. Or when you sang that song at your concert and I cried in the staff area like an idiot.”
You stare. “You cried?”
She hides her face briefly in her hands. “A little. Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not,” you say hoarsely. “I… might cry now, though.”
She laughs quietly, then lets her hands drop.
“I was pretending that if I didn’t name it, it wouldn’t be real,” she says. “But the more I avoided it, the stronger it got. When you said the song was about me, my first reaction was… ‘Oh. So I’m not crazy.’”
You blink. “What do you mean?”
She meets your eyes, hers clear despite the street’s dim light.
“I like you too,” she says simply. “I don’t know exactly when it started. Maybe when we shared that practice room. Maybe when you answered my 3 a.m. texts about dance calluses. Maybe when you said you felt like your voice wasn’t yours sometimes and I didn’t feel so weird anymore. But somewhere along the way, I started looking forward to your messages more than my own rest. I started checking the audience for your silhouette when we performed on the same shows.”
She laughs weakly, embarrassed. “I replayed your demo in my head during practice until my members asked me what I was humming. I… like you. A lot. And it scares me. A lot.”
You feel like the world just shifted half a degree into place.
“Zuha…” Your voice cracks. You clear your throat. “We don’t have to rush into anything. Or even call it anything right away. I just… needed you to know how I feel. I don’t expect you to risk everything because of that.”
She shakes her head. “If we walk away now just because we’re afraid of what might happen, I think… I’ll regret it. Even if we try to just be ‘friends,’ it won’t change what’s already there.”
She takes a hesitant step closer. The space between you decreases, but the air feels clearer somehow.
“I can’t promise it’ll be easy,” she says. “There will be rumors. Maybe worse. Our companies might panic. Some fans might hate us. But I don’t want to make this decision based on strangers on the internet. I want to make it with you.”
You look at her, really look, letting all her words sink into the places that have been tense and fearful for days.
“Are you sure?” you ask softly. “If someone gets hurt, I’d rather it be me than you.”
“We’ll both get hurt,” she replies with a small, brave smile. “But we’ll also be happy. At least, I hope so. And if it does end someday, I want it to be because we decided it wasn’t right anymore. Not because we were too scared to try.”
You laugh, relief breaking through the fear. “You’re stronger than you look.”
She raises a brow. “I’m a professional idol. What did you expect?”
You grin, then sober.
“So,” you say carefully, “does this mean… we’re…?”
She tilts her head, thinking. Then:
“If you’re okay with it,” she says, “I’d like it if we tried… dating. Quietly. Carefully. Honestly.”
There it is. The word that felt too big just a week ago now fits perfectly in the space between you.
You let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding since the day in the hallway.
“I’d like that too,” you say.
You don’t reach for her hand—too risky, even in a dark side street.
Instead, you stand there together for a few more minutes, sharing warmth, shared fear, and something bright and hopeful that refuses to be drowned out by what-ifs.
When you both head back to your separate dorms, your steps feel lighter than they have in years.
You fall asleep that night with your phone on your chest and the memory of her voice saying “I like you too” looping in your head.
For a while, it’s perfect in the only way something this fragile can be.
You both become masters of invisible lines—how close you can stand behind the stage, how long your eyes can linger on each other in corridors, what kind of texts you can send while you’re in rooms with other people.
You learn her schedule like you know your own. When she’s on early morning music shows, you set your alarm to text her:
You:
Fighting today. Don’t skip breakfast.
She always replies, even if it’s just:
Zuha:
I ate one bite of toast does that count
On nights when your laziness wins and you order takeout for the third time in a row, she sends you voice notes scolding you for not cooking properly, her tone more amused than angry.
You share playlists, inside jokes, the unglamorous details of idol life that fans never see. You slip small things into each other’s days—she puts a pack of your favorite gummy candy in the pocket of your jacket at a joint schedule; you send a coffee truck anonymously to one of her music video shoots, the slogan a cheesy inside reference only she and her members understand.
You don’t post anything overtly about each other on social media. But fans, ever observant, start to notice:
The way your playlists suddenly include songs that LE SSERAFIM members once mentioned.
How you casually recommend a ballet documentary in an interview, saying, “A… friend suggested it.”
The fact that one of your practice videos shows a glimpse of a phone case on the piano that looks suspiciously like one Kazuha was seen with in a behind-the-scenes clip.
There are faint mutterings on forums, scattered threads here and there, but nothing concrete.
Your song remains unreleased.
The word “boyfriend” never leaves your lips in public.
In private, it’s different.
“Boyfriend,” she whispers once, testing it on her tongue during a late-night call. You can almost hear the shy smile behind it.
Your heart does a backflip. “Girlfriend,” you try back, voice a little shaky.
You both laugh like teenagers who snuck out of class.
You talk honestly about the risk from the beginning.
“We might get caught,” you say once, lying on your bed, phone pressed to your cheek. “No matter how careful we are.”
“I know,” she replies. “I won’t blame you if that happens.”
“I won’t blame you either,” you say. “We’ll blame Dispatch.”
She snorts.
“Let’s just promise one thing,” she says quietly. “If it happens… we don’t make any decisions out of panic. Not without talking to each other first.”
You let that sink in.
“Promise,” you say.
At the time, it feels hypothetical.
You don’t realize how soon you’ll need that promise.
It happens on a Tuesday.
You’re half-asleep when your manager barges into your dorm room, phone pressed to his ear, expression a mixture of shock and barely suppressed annoyance.
“Wake up,” he says. “Right now.”
You fumble for your phone, squinting at the bright screen.
Your name is trending.
So is hers.
You open the top article.
[BREAKING] Popular Soloist [Stage Name] and LE SSERAFIM’s Kazuha Reportedly Dating – Late Night Car Date Captured
Your blood runs cold.
The photos are blurry, taken from a distance, but you recognize everything. Your car. The backstreet behind the convenience store you thought was safe. The way she’s half-leaning into the car window, mask pulled down for a second as she smiles at you. Another picture of her getting into the passenger seat, your hand braced lightly above the door frame.
You scroll, fingers numb.
The article details “repeated late-night meetings,” “schedule overlaps,” “coordinated outfits.” It speculates, hints, stirs. Some of it is true. Some of it is baseless.
All of it is out there now.
Your manager’s voice cuts through the haze.
“The company is drafting a statement,” he says. “Have you told them anything before this?”
You swallow. “No. I… we wanted to be sure first.”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Of course it’s today.” He looks at you more gently then. “Listen. They’ll want to know if it’s real. You need to decide what you’re comfortable with.”
“What about her company?” you manage.
He checks his phone. “HYBE says they’ll coordinate with us. They’re in a meeting right now.”
You nod, brain working overtime, heart lagging behind.
Messages flood your phone—friends, colleagues, some fans, all chaotic or shocked or curious.
Her name flashes on your screen.
Zuha:
I’m so sorry
You:
It’s not your fault
Are you okay?
She takes a minute.
Zuha:
They called me in
It’s chaos
Our CEO wants to know what to say
You:
Tell them the truth
A pause. Then:
Zuha:
That we’re really…?
You feel strangely calm as you type.
You:
That we’re seeing each other seriously
And that we’re sorry to surprise everyone
But we’re not a gimmick
Another pause, longer this time.
Zuha:
Okay.
The statements come out that afternoon.
Both companies confirm that you are “getting to know each other with good feelings” and “supporting each other as artists.” They apologize for worrying fans and promise that both of you will continue to prioritize your work.
The internet explodes.
Your fan café crashes from traffic. Her group’s community app fills with hundreds of posts in minutes. Twitter, Instagram, forums—everywhere you look, you see your names, your faces, your relationship dissected by people who don’t know you beyond the screen.
There is support.
Some fans post messages like:
They’re humans too. As long as they’re happy and they keep working hard, I’ll support them.
Others defend you aggressively, pushing back against the hate.
But the hate is loud.
I trusted you.
I bought all your albums, and this is how you repay us?
So that’s why he’s been writing all those love songs lately. It was all for her.
She’s a rookie, what is she doing dating already? She’s going to ruin the group’s image.
This seems too convenient before both of their comebacks. Is this just a company stunt?
“Publicity stunt” appears in multiple languages.
Your next brand campaign quietly halts its shoot “until further notice.”
Her group’s agency starts reevaluating some endorsement deals, worried about their “pure” image in certain markets.
The guilt hits you from several angles at once.
You watch as your fan numbers fluctuate, as hashtags like #LeaveThemAlone battle against #SelfishIdol and #BreakUpAlready.
You become a topic instead of an artist.
The worst part, though, isn’t what strangers say.
It’s how it starts to change the way you both act with each other.
Your text conversations grow more stilted at first.
Where you once messaged freely, now there’s an unspoken weight behind every word. You both feel it—the knowledge that at any moment, a wrong move could turn into another wave of screenshots, another article, another reason for fans to say you don’t care about them.
You start avoiding certain phrases.
You hesitate before sending anything that might sound too affectionate.
Your company asks you to lay low on social media for a while. They don’t forbid you from seeing her, but they strongly suggest “focusing on your work” until things calm down.
Her company is stricter.
“Our priority is the group,” they remind her. “We won’t tell you what to feel. But any choice you make will affect everyone, not just you.”
The weight of that lies heavy on both of you.
“I’m sorry you’re getting dragged into this,” you tell her one night over the phone, voice low. “I should’ve been more careful. Maybe if I’d—”
“Don’t say that,” she cuts in quickly. “We were both there. We both knew the risk.”
“Yeah, but…” You stare at the headlines on your screen. “They’re attacking you more than me. Calling you unprofessional. A rookie who doesn’t care about her group. It’s not fair.”
“It’s not your fault,” she insists, but her voice is tired. “This is what happens to idols. It’s always worse for the girl.”
You clench your jaw.
“I hate that,” you say.
“I do too,” she whispers.
There are meetings. Lots of them. With managers, with PR teams, with executives.
“These storms pass,” one of your higher-ups says, trying to be reassuring. “Don’t say anything inflammatory. Don’t post anything that can be interpreted as romantic. Focus on music. Let it blow over.”
“But that implies we’re… ashamed,” you protest.
“It implies that we’re professionals,” he counters. “You have fans who feel betrayed right now. You need to respect their emotions too, even if you don’t agree with them.”
You want to argue that respecting someone’s emotions and erasing your own are two different things, but you’re tired. You choose your battles.
You hear similar things are being said to her.
“We can’t stop you from seeing him,” her manager tells her gently. “But we’d prefer if you… toned things down. At least publicly. For now.”
You start to see her less.
Sometimes because you’re too busy, schedules clashing like always.
Sometimes because she’s too busy.
And sometimes… because you both choose not to ask.
You tell yourselves it’s to protect each other.
It feels like slowly closing a door you fought so hard to unlock.
The near-breakup doesn’t happen in a dramatic scene.
It happens on a quiet night, with both of you too tired to pretend you’re not hurting.
You’re in the studio, late again, trying to write and failing. Lyrics blur together into cliché phrases about love and pain and sacrifice that all sound wrong. You’re angry at yourself for not being able to turn this mess into something beautiful like you usually can.
Your phone rings.
Her name.
You answer quickly. “Hey.”
Her voice is thinner than usual. “Can you talk?”
“Always,” you say, sitting back from the keyboard. “Where are you?”
“Dorm,” she says. “The others are sleeping.”
“Did something happen?”
She’s quiet for a moment before answering.
“We had a meeting today,” she finally says. “About… us.”
You grip the edge of your chair. “What did they say?”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Nothing different from what we expected. They’re worried about the group’s image, about brand deals, about fan café posts. About whether this is… worth it.”
The last two words come out small.
You know she’s not just repeating her company’s concerns—she’s voicing her own too.
“I’m sorry,” you say, hating how useless it sounds. “I wish I could fix this.”
“You didn’t cause all of it,” she says. “But… it wouldn’t be here without us either.”
You swallow.
“What do you want?” you ask quietly. “Not your company. Not your fans. You.”
Silence stretches on the line. You hear a faint sniffle.
“I want everything,” she admits. “I want to perform with my members and not feel guilty. I want my fans to be happy. I want you to keep writing songs the way you do. I want to hold your hand in a parking lot without worrying who’s in the bushes with a camera.”
Her voice cracks.
“But we can’t have all of that, can we?”
You close your eyes, exhaling shakily. “Maybe not.”
“And if someone has to lose something,” she continues, “I don’t want it to be them.” You can hear her tears now, soft and frustrated. “My members worked so hard. Our fans… they gave up a lot to support us. What if… what if they were right? That this is selfish?”
You feel something inside you crumple.
“Loving someone isn’t selfish,” you say, but your conviction sounds thinner than you’d like.
“It feels like it,” she whispers. “Every time I see a post saying they’re disappointed in me… I feel like I stole something from them.”
You want to tell her they’re wrong, that she deserves love as much as anyone, that idols are human. But you also know she chose this life. You know the bargain the industry demands, even if you hate it.
You sound like you’re arguing with yourself as much as with her.
“We can try to show them it’s not like that,” you say. “That our work isn’t affected.”
“What if it already is?” she counters. “My lines are being cut in some brand CFs. You lost a campaign. Comments are… ugly. My parents called, worried. The members say they support me, but I can tell they’re stressed.”
You have no good answer.
The silence this time is heavier.
Finally, she breathes out, broken.
“Maybe…” She hesitates, and you know what’s coming even before she says it. “Maybe it’s better if we stop.”
The words shatter something in you.
You laugh weakly, fighting the urge to beg instantly. “Do you… really think that?”
“I don’t know,” she says, sounding lost. “I don’t know anything right now. I’m tired. I’m scared. And I hate that my first feeling when I see something good happen for you or for us is fear of how people will twist it.”
She sniffles again.
“I promised I wouldn’t make decisions out of fear,” she adds bitterly. “But it’s hard not to when it’s everywhere.”
You grip your phone tighter, knuckles white.
“Zuha,” you say quietly, “If you want to end it, I’ll understand. I don’t want to be another source of stress in your life. I love you too much for that.”
It’s the first time you’ve said “love” out loud.
She gasps softly, then covers it with a shaky laugh. “You’re not making this easier.”
“Sorry,” you murmur. “Force of habit. My heart is bad at PR.”
She goes quiet again.
When she speaks, her voice is raw. “Can we… pause? Is that allowed?”
You blink, confused. “Pause?”
“Not… break up,” she clarifies. “Just… not be in each other’s way. For a little while. Until things settle. Focus on our work. Talk less. See each other less. Just… breathe.”
The idea feels like ripping off one limb to save the rest of the body.
But you hear the desperation in her voice.
“If that’s what you need,” you say eventually, each word like a stone, “I’ll do it.”
She chokes out a sound that might be a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you say. “Just… promise me something.”
“What?”
“That we’ll talk again,” you say. “Really talk. Not like this. Not with the world screaming in our ears. That when you’re ready, when we’re both ready, we’ll choose again. Whatever that choice is. But we’ll make it together, not because we got pushed into it.”
You can feel her nodding even through the phone.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“I’m still here,” you say softly. “Even if I’m quieter for a while. Remember that.”
“I will,” she says, voice small. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” you reply.
You hang up and sit in the darkness of your studio, the glow of the computer screen the only light.
You don’t write that night.
You just… exist, heart heavy, head full of noise that for once can’t be turned into a melody.
The turning point comes from the one thing that has always saved you: a song.
Weeks pass where “paused” really does mean what she asked for. You don’t cut her off completely. You still send the occasional “good luck today” or “I’m proud of your stage,” but you don’t linger in each other’s lives the way you used to. You focus on work. She dives into group activities. You channel your feelings into your music—not out of a calculated move, but because you don’t know how else to process them.
The new song arrives late one night, uninvited but relentless.
You sit at your keyboard, hands moving almost on their own.
This one is different.
It’s not about the initial rush of falling, or even about her specifically. It’s about standing at a crossroads with the whole world shouting directions at you, and still choosing the path your heart points to.
You write about the fear, the anger, the confusion. You write about wanting to run, about almost leaving, about turning back because you remembered a promise made behind a convenience store and in whispered late-night calls.
You write the chorus like a vow:
If I walk away because they tell me to Would I still recognize the face in the mirror? If I choose the quiet over the truth of you What was all this for, all these years of getting nearer? I’m not asking them to love what they can’t understand I’m just asking for the right to hold your hand… Even if it’s only in my songs.
You finish the demo in one sitting.
Your eyes burn. Your throat feels raw.
You send it to your label as a candidate for the digital single they’ve been asking about. They listen, go quiet, and then say:
“If you’re okay with what people will assume… this is your strongest work yet.”
You think of her, of her tears, of her saying she wanted to choose with you, not with them.
“I’m okay with it,” you say.
The song comes out without a flashy teaser campaign.
You don’t mention any names. You don’t need to.
Fans know.
Everyone knows.
Interviews, radio shows, YouTube content—everyone asks some variation of the same question:
“Is this song based on your personal experience?”
You answer honestly, but carefully.
“I write what I know,” you say. “It’s about loving someone when it would be easier not to. About wanting to protect them, but also wanting to be brave for them. It’s not about proving anything to anyone. It’s just… me being honest in the only way I know how.”
The DJ asks, “Is this your way of talking about your recent news?”
You take a breath.
“It’s my way of telling the truth without starting a press conference,” you reply with a small smile. “People can think what they want. I just hope the people involved know I meant every word.”
The clip goes viral.
Some people roll their eyes.
He’s milking the scandal for streams.
Others, surprisingly, soften.
This hurts in a good way… I can’t even stay mad.
The fact that he acknowledges fans’ feelings but still stands by his own… I respect that.
You don’t check her reactions.
Not at first.
You don’t want to force anything on her. You don’t send the song to her directly.
You don’t have to.
She hears it anyway.
It’s late when she texts you.
Zuha:
I listened.
Your heart stutters.
You:
Oh.
You:
What did you think?
There’s a long pause.
Zuha:
It hurt.
Your stomach drops.
Zuha:
In the best way.
Another pause. Then:
Zuha:
Can we talk?
Really talk this time?
You don’t hesitate.
You:
Tell me when and where.
She sends an address.
It’s the same small practice room you once accidentally shared months ago.
You arrive early.
The room looks the same: scuffed floor, mirrored wall, faint smell of effort. Your reflection stares back at you, older in ways that have nothing to do with time.
The door opens quietly.
She steps in, wearing a simple sweatshirt and leggings, hair in a low ponytail. No cap, no mask, just her.
For a moment, you both just stand there, uncertainty and familiarity crashing into each other.
“Hey,” you say finally.
“Hey,” she echoes, a faint smile twitching at her lips.
“How have you been?” you ask, because you don’t know where else to start.
She laughs softly. “Busy. Tired. You?”
“The same,” you say. “The usual.”
Silence falls again.
She walks to the center of the room, looks at your reflection in the mirror instead of directly at you.
“When I asked for a pause,” she begins, “I thought it would make things clearer. That if I stepped away from you, I’d be able to see if this was right or wrong.”
She meets your gaze in the mirror.
“I was wrong,” she says.
Your heart kicks.
“How so?” you ask carefully.
“I missed you,” she says plainly. “A lot. And I realized that even with the pause, the noise didn’t stop. People still talked, still speculated, still judged. The only difference was… I was going through it more alone.”
She takes a breath.
“When your song came out…” Her voice trembles slightly. “I listened to it in the dorm bathroom with the shower on, so the others wouldn’t hear me crying.”
Your throat tightens. “I’m sorry it made you cry.”
“I’m not,” she says, turning to face you fully now. “It was… the first time in weeks I felt like someone was saying exactly what I couldn’t put into words. You were scared. You were hurt. But you… chose. You chose to be honest. Even when it would have been safer to stay vague and let people assume what they wanted. You put your heart out there and trusted that the right people would hear it.”
She steps closer, the distance shrinking.
“It made me realize something,” she continues. “I was letting the loudest voices make the biggest decisions for me. I said I wanted to choose with you, not with them, but then I ran away when it got hard. I almost let fear do the choosing.”
She stops an arm’s length away.
“I don’t want to do that anymore,” she says.
You feel your pulse everywhere—your fingertips, your throat, your ears.
“What does that mean, exactly?” you ask, even though every selfish part of you already knows what you hope it means.
She smiles, soft but steady.
“It means I want to try again,” she says. “Not ‘paused.’ Not half-in, half-out. Fully. As much as we can be in this life. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, or that we won’t have to compromise. But I’d rather deal with the difficulty of loving you than the emptiness of pretending I don’t.”
You exhale, a sound that’s almost a laugh, almost a sob.
“I thought I was the dramatic songwriter,” you say weakly.
She laughs, rolling her eyes. “You’re rubbing off on me.”
You take a step closer, searching her face.
“Are you sure?” you ask again. “About the hate, the comments, the brands, the… everything. I don’t want to drag you back into something that hurts you.”
“It hurts either way,” she says honestly. “But at least this way, I get something good out of it too.” She reaches up, fingers hovering near your sleeve. “And the fans who truly love us… I think, over time, they’ll understand too. Maybe not all of them, but some. The ones who see us as people, not just products.”
You let her words settle in the places that have been afraid to hope.
“I never stopped loving you,” you say quietly. “I tried to bury it under work and PR and silence, but it was still there. Every time I sang, every time I looked at a camera and pretended I didn’t want to look for you in the crowd.”
Her eyes shine.
“I know,” she says. “I heard it. In your song.”
You smile, small but real.
“Then let’s do it,” you say. “Let’s be careful. Let’s be respectful. But let’s not be ashamed.”
She nods.
“We need to talk to our companies,” she says. “Set boundaries. Tell them what we will and won’t do. No fake couple content. No PR stunts. No ‘mysterious’ hints. Just… us, quietly being in each other’s lives while doing our jobs well.”
“And if they say it’s bad for business?” you ask.
She shrugs slightly, a new steel in her gaze. “Then they’ll have to decide if they want artists or puppets. I’m tired of pretending we don’t have hearts just because we’re on a stage.”
You realize, not for the first time, that she’s far stronger than anyone gives her credit for.
“Whatever happens,” you say, “we face it together this time. Not from opposite ends of a ‘pause.’”
“Together,” she echoes.
You don’t ask for permission when you step forward and finally, gently, pull her into your arms.
She comes willingly, arms wrapping around your waist, forehead pressing into your shoulder. You feel her exhale, a quiet shudder of release.
“I missed you,” she mumbles into your hoodie.
“I missed you more,” you reply automatically.
She pulls back with a half-amused, half-exasperated look. “You always have to one-up me, huh?”
“Occupational hazard,” you say. “I fell first, remember? It’s kind of my thing.”
She smiles, eyes crinkling.
“I’m glad you did,” she says. “I might have been too scared to jump otherwise.”
The conversations with your companies are not easy.
There are raised voices, cautionary warnings, words like “risk management” and “market response” thrown around. But you’re both calmer this time. You know what you want. You know where you can bend and where you can’t.
“We won’t flaunt it,” you say. “We’re not asking to go on couple reality shows or do joint CFs.”
“We just don’t want to lie,” she adds. “We won’t deny it if asked directly. We won’t do gimmicks. We won’t break up for PR.”
Your companies weigh the options.
You’re not rookies anymore. She’s a core part of a successful group. You’re an established soloist with a loyal following and increasing respect as a songwriter. Losing you would hurt.
Eventually, reluctantly, they agree to a truce.
“Keep it low-key,” they say. “Don’t provoke the fandoms. Work hard. Show them you’re still serious about your careers.”
You agree.
Not because you’re afraid now, but because you know this is the compromise that will let you exist without burning everything down.
You face the fans, too—each in your own way.
On a radio show a month later, the host skirts around the topic carefully.
“How do you balance your personal feelings with your responsibility to fans?” they ask.
You think of all the messages you’ve read, both loving and angry.
“I’m grateful to everyone who’s supported me,” you say slowly. “Truly. I wouldn’t be here without them. I understand that some people might have had expectations of… what my life would look like. Of who I’d be, always. But at the end of the day, I’m human. I feel things. I make mistakes. I also… find people who make this life easier to bear.”
You catch the DJ’s eye.
“I don’t expect everyone to be happy for me,” you continue. “But I hope, over time, they’ll see that I’m not taking their love for granted. I’m just trying to be honest with the person I love… and with the person I am.”
The clip circulates.
Some fans cry.
Some roll their eyes.
But gradually, the discourse softens at the edges.
Kazuha’s approach is gentler, threaded through variety shows and fan interactions.
“I want to keep working hard so that people who support me can feel proud,” she says in one interview when asked what happiness means to her. “And… I also hope that they can be happy that I’m happy.”
It’s vague enough to pass PR filters.
It’s clear enough that people who know, know.
Over time, something quiet happens.
People get used to it.
Not all of them. Some fans leave. Some linger but never fully forgive.
But many—more than you dared to hope—stay. They watch your stages, listen to your songs, cheer for her group’s comebacks. They start to see that your work hasn’t suffered. If anything, there’s a new depth, a new fire in both of you.
You don’t hide.
You also don’t parade your relationship as content.
You’re seen in the same place a few times—award shows, festival lineups, industry events. Occasionally fans notice the way your gaze flickers to her when her group wins an award, or how she subtly bops along when you perform. They make edits. Some playful, some genuinely touched.
“Slow-burn real-life K-drama,” a comment says under a fan-made video of your journey, from hallway encounter to rumor to now.
You watch it once, alone in your studio, and feel a strange mix of embarrassment and pride.
It’s not entirely accurate, but it’s not entirely wrong either.
Months later, you find yourselves back in the practice room where you almost fell apart and then chose each other again.
You’re both on a rare day off. The city is bright outside, spring edging into summer. You could be anywhere—at a café, in a park, even just at home catching up on sleep. Instead, you’re here, in this modest room with its squeaky floor and slightly crooked mirror.
“I swear this place has better energy than our official studios,” you say, stretching your arms above your head.
She laughs. “Maybe because we don’t get scolded here as much.”
You put on a song—just some random mid-tempo track—and start trying to follow a simple TikTok dance you half-remember. You mess up spectacularly. On purpose.
She wheezes with laughter.
“Your foot—no, the other foot!” she says, grabbing your wrist to reposition you.
“You’re supposed to be supportive,” you protest.
“I am!” she insists, still giggling. “I’m supporting your journey toward being slightly less of a disaster.”
Minutes pass in a blur of laughter and bad dancing. You rest against the wall eventually, catching your breath. She slides down next to you, shoulders touching, legs stretched out in front.
You sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching your reflections.
“Do you ever think about… how close we came to ending it?” you ask quietly.
She hums. “Sometimes.”
“How do you feel about that now?”
She thinks for a moment. “Grateful,” she says at last.
You turn to her, surprised. “Grateful?”
“If we hadn’t almost lost it,” she explains, “we might not have fought so hard to keep it. We might have drifted without noticing until it was too late. Now… we know what’s at stake. We know we can survive the noise.”
You let that sink in.
“I still hate that you got hurt,” you say.
“I hate that you did too,” she replies. “But… I’m proud of us.” She smiles softly. “We didn’t let other people’s fear turn us into liars.”
You look at your intertwined reflections.
“I’m proud of us too,” you say.
There’s a brief pause.
“Hey, [Name]?” she asks.
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you fell first,” she says, voice teasing and sincere all at once. “If you hadn’t been brave enough to write that song, to say how you felt… I might have kept pretending I didn’t know what my own heart was doing.”
You chuckle, leaning your head back against the wall.
“If falling first means ending up here with you,” you say, “I’d do it a thousand times. Even if it hurt every time in the middle.”
She bumps your shoulder lightly with hers. “You’re such a songwriter.”
“Occupational hazard,” you repeat with a grin.
A few weeks later, at an award show, someone records a candid moment.
You’re sitting among the artists, clapping as LE SSERAFIM wins a performance award. The camera isn’t on you, but a fan’s phone is, from somewhere up in the stands.
In the grainy video, as Kazuha walks up to the stage with her members, the angle catches you looking at her with a soft, unmistakably fond smile. Not the kind you give for cameras. The private one. The one she knows.
On stage, as she bows to the cheering crowd, there’s a split second where her gaze drops to where you’re sitting. Her lips curve just a fraction more, eyes warming, before she turns to hug her members.
The clip spreads quietly, not as a scandal this time, but as something else:
Proof.
Not of a gimmick. Not of a PR relationship crafted for attention.
Proof of two people who met in a noisy world, who fell in love harder and messier than they planned, who almost let that world pull them apart—and chose, again and again, to hold on anyway.
Some comments are still bitter.
Many aren’t.
I didn’t like it at first but… seeing how they’ve handled it, how sincere he is in his songs and how she’s still working so hard… I can’t hate them.
I used to think idols dating was betrayal, but now… I think it’s just part of them being human. And I love them as humans.
You read some of those comments, not all.
You smile, a little sadly, a little proudly.
You don’t need the world’s full approval.
You have each other’s.
You have your music.
You have that first memory of a quiet hallway, a girl humming your pre-chorus, and something in your chest shifting that never quite shifted back.
More than rumors, more than noise, more than numbers—you have the simple, stubborn, patient truth:
Today would've marked two years since I uploaded the first chapter of Unlikely Duet and became 0cta9on (I think, I forgot the exact date tbh :>) While I wish I was able to celebrate this under better circumstances, I'm still proud of a lot of the work I put out in the past year.
Some stand outs for me:
'I Hate Fruits' - Jo Yuri: I fear I peaked here in terms of angst. Thank you again to @octoberautumnbox for ordering this commission and allowing me to write one of my favorite stories I've ever written <3
'Love Premonition (恋の予感)' - Le Sserafim Sakura: I've always liked "plotless" stories that feel lived in and real, like 'Moon Rabbit' and the 'SUN___' miniseries I wrote. While I may not be the best at depicting them, they're fun to get lost in.
'Internal Debate' - Nmixx Haewon x Lily: My first time writing wlw! Looking back, I think there's a lot I could've done better, both plotwise and smutwise, but it was a fun experiment and I would love to write more idol x idol wlw, whether it's smut or not. I love writing for Nmixx and Blue Valentine era has given me a lot of inspo for potential stories (Album is peak too ouuuggggfff....)
Unfortunately, tumblr wiped out any reblogs of my fics and my docs are a mess, so I can't quite remember everything I put out in the past year. Regardless, thank you to anyone who takes the time to read, like, and comment on my fics, I appreciate every single one of you and you motivate me to keep writing <3
I'll wait a week before deciding whether to reupload everything onto this account. Hopefully I can get back my original account before then, but given other people's experiences with tumblr support, it's likely that I'll be waiting a couple months for a response.
For now, all my fluff fics are on my SFW wattpad, including the edited version of UD chapters 1-6. It's not an ideal solution, but it's all I've got for now as I wait.
Thank you all again and here's to a (hopefully) better third year of 0cta9on <3
Disclaimer: It’s just an edited edition from Wattpad so chances are, you already read the book but rest assured that it will be edited and I will try to improve each chapter.
Though I’m quite inactive in here or more like inconsistent, please let me introduce you to a server where me and some fluffy writers are present. Feel free to join!
Discord Link: https://discord.gg/CDv8vt9Pm7
This server aims to be a safe haven and hub for writers and readers alike! | 149 members
A night is commonly linked to the time where people rest or time where work ends. Countless hours passed and many if not almost all of the people were either fatigued or stressed from school and their everyday lives. Though normal for the eyes of some, all of us can't deny the repetition sometimes makes our life bland.
“Bilisan mo YN !!! Matra-trapik tayo!” Mikha said as she ushered him to hurry up because of the scary traffic of Manila, reasonable reasoning tho…
But not these two people named YN and Mikha whose energy is recharged when they are together, talking through their phones, or even just sending some random photos while chatting their day. They can't see each other everyday because of life constrictions, but today, this is a rare day where Mikha and YN can meet and date.
“Sandali lang! Excited ka naman masyado,” YN released a chuckle which also made Mikha whine like a baby. A sight to behold for YN though as the way her eyes squint and nose scrunches every whine she is doing, an uncontrollable force got over him and slowly, his hands connected to her soft cheek like a marshmallow and pillow.
“Ano ginagawa mo?! Huyyy!!! Ako lang to!” Mikha said to YN as the man just giggled at her reaction while unbeknownst to him is that this is one way how Mikha deals with the flutterness in her heart.
Mikha fanned herself as she went out of the house she is living in, meaning YN is there to pick her up for her date. The couple were busy with their own career in life, hobbies, and friends but this day is a special day for them.
YN arranged something for fun that will surely make Mikha happy and destress from the negative outlets that surround her. The girl group Mikha belongs in, BINI is garnering popularity these days which they do truly deserve but on the opposite side, haters will also hate.
With their simple outing, YN aims to boost her happiness to the roof, supporting Mikha in her activities, as well in her dream to perform and make people happy.
“Bilis mo naman maglakad Mikha,” YN voiced out as he saw Mikha have created a distance between them as she walked out first. Mikha looked back and saw her partner walking to her, she smiled and chuckled as she stopped and awaits for the man who she loves.
“Hindi ako mabilis, ikaw lang tong mabagal,” Mikha chuckles and when YN caught up with her, he stretched his right arm and slowly enveloped Mikha in a hug of security and warmth.
“Clingy ah~,” Mikha said and booped YN's nose and the man scrunched it as a response.
“Sulitin mo na, hindi na kita papakawalan,” YN smirked while Mikha laughed loudly and slapped YN's shoulder repeatedly as she found this cringy, yet so beautiful to hear.
“Sabi mo, panindigan mo,” Mikha sternly said to YN and the man nodded and pecked her crown.
“Of course. Not gonna let go of that promise alright,” YN assured Mikha and while the girl already knows this, it's relieving for her to hear that they are committed to this relationship.
Although young and still have many paths to walk on, YN and Mikha try their best to be the leaning shoulder for each one. Remove the celebrity title for today as today, they are just a normal couple who is sharing mutual feelings.
“Saan na tayo nito? Masarap yakap pero gusto ko parin umalis,” Mikha spoke out in a teasing manner, making YN playfully roll his eyes which popped a nerve in Mikha's head.
“Ah ganon… sige wag na pala,” Mikha began to sulk, making the one who initiates the joke plead in for forgiveness. Y/n uses any words that can dilly-dally the mind of Mikha and make her calm down but when in reality, Mikha is always calm and a great actor, she can also actually make YN fluster like right now.
A couple of minutes passed of YN soothing Mikha, the girl gave in and laughed at YN whose mind is a mess from the jumbling of the right words he will use for his (pretending to be) sulky girlfriend.
YN then led Mikha to his car to start their date.
________________
For the first itinerary of this date, YN brought Mikha to a volleyball match between rival colleges in the capital city. Mikha was beyond happy and was excited to watch a sport that she loved so much. Fun fact, Mikha was a volleyball player and a sporty girl!
YN bought the ticket and as soon as they entered the main hall of the arena, the energetic crowd greeted them, also pumping the adrenaline and excitement inside of their body.
Mikha was giddy from the time she entered and took a seat that was designated to her then, the game started.
The two teams rally and score with the spikes of their own, some points are from aces, and some are from the blocks of the tall players who are guarding at the net.
The ball alternated its court as it was being hit by the players. Watching a game of volleyball never disappoints as there is no such thing as a big lead, as long as you have the determination to win, you can win.
Also, supporters of each school showed up as they nearly filled the arena to its full capacity. Mikha, who loves the game, was in bliss and her passion also comes out by saying something like; “Ay! Sayang!!!” or “YN, kaya ko kaya ma-spike yun?” Mikha’s emotion was in the game as well as like she was playing with the players in the court.
Set by set, each school got two each and now they are fighting for the 3rd set win. Only needing 15 points instead of 25, the fight just got fiercer.
The last set commenced with the two teams rallying like crazy, literally diving for the ball at all cost just to set their team to attack. YN and Mikha were on the edge of their seats, while neither of them picked a team to support, the game itself will drag you to its intensity.
Two teams, the yellow team and the green team were fighting head to head until the libero of the green team miscalculated the trajectory of the ball, missing it and it also means that Yellow team has a point.
Mikha exhaled while holding YN's hand, fully immersed in the game they were watching.
“I-kalma mo Mikha, kulang nalang ikaw na pumalo ng bola eh,” YN used this opportunity to joke and his girlfriend just hugged him tightly with her eyes still on the court.
“Ay nako YN, papakitaan talaga kita pag ako naglaro,” Mikha said.
*whistle*
Game point, Yellow team served the ball to the opposite side of the court and green team received it and set up with a shot of its own. The setter of the green team throws the ball in the air and one, two people faked before the third person struck the ball but the yellow team saw this coming as the tall blockers blocked the shot, signifying the green team loses the game.
The players from the yellow team celebrated while the players from the green team motivated each other up and in the end, the sportsmanship prevailed as the players from both teams lined up in the net and greeted each other for a nice game.
Mikha on the other hand cheered loudly as the magnificent game had a magnificent ending, she jumped happily while YN just watched his girl with a smile while being happy and enjoying her time.
_________________
“Saan mo nanaman ako dadalhin?” Mikha asked, a little bit annoyed with YN but the man just shrugged it off.
“Basta magugustuhan mo yung lugar,” YN assured but Mikha continued to protest.
“Ih~ sige na! Sabihin mo na please~,” Mikha hugged YN’s arm and showed him the smile and cute face she can show but tonight, YN’s control of flutterness with Mikha is quite strong.
Mikha sees that any effort she does will not end in something she wants, she just lets YN drag her to the place. Though Mikha could assume something because they are already at BGC, maybe it will be a lovely dinner or bar hopping around the city.
YN held Mikha’s hand as they walked under the moon and stars who are floating above the vast emptiness of the horizon, also passing by the cars and other people who are exploring the city just like them. The city is not bustling anymore as many were not working, making this a more peaceful time for everyone.
As silence falls between them, the feeling of comfort strengthens as their hands are holding each other for warmth. A night in the Philippines is normally hot, but that didn't stop YN and Mikha from going out as the fire inside their hearts is far more important than just the hot weather. The warmth, love, and tranquillity they feel when they are together is far more beneficial not only for themselves, but also for the love they are still building.
The couple eventually reached BGC high street where a park with scattered vendors selling a variety of items was seen. Y/n turned to Mikha at this point and the latter also looked at him.
“Ikaw na masusunod. Saan mo gusto?” YN said and asked Mikha as the girl began to think. Though Mikha thought that YN had a plan, she smiled cheekily rather than being disappointed.
“Wala kang plano noh~,” Mikha teased while YN nodded, guilty as he had been caught.
“Yes. Nahuli mo ko,” YN chuckled as Mikha did the same. The girl didn't have to think long though as dinner immediately went inside her mind.
“Edi kumain na tayo, gabi narin naman,” Mikha said. YN nodded in agreement with her plan.
“Alright, saan mo gusto?” YN asked but Mikha suddenly pulled his arms and now, it's her turn to drag someone.
“Alam ko na kung saan, hehe~,” Mikha said happily while YN shook his head at her with a smile.
Mikha walked with YN beside her and they arrived at this restaurant which has a nice minimalist ambiance. The girl pointed to the restaurant and YN just shrugs but agrees to her suggestion.
The two entered the restaurant and were greeted by a waiter who also guided them to their seats. Come to the time they were ordering, Mikha was struggling on what food to eat as the menu of the restaurant looked so good, her eyes shifted to every dish name written.
YN saw how focused her girlfriend is at looking at the menu, making him release a chuckle, also loud enough to be heard by Mikha.
“Gusto ko kainin lahat!” Mikha whined, making YN laugh again.
“Bumalik nalang tayo dito para sa iba, pili ka nalang ng pinaka-gusto mo ngayon,” YN said as Mikha pouts but nodded.
“Sabi mo yan ah,” Mikha said, reassuring that YN will bring her back to the restaurant they are in.
“Sabihin mo lang kelan ka libre, dadalhin kita dito kahit pagod ako, para sayo, para lang makita ngiti mo,” YN said, adding his uhm… words.
“Huy!!! Ano sinasabi mo!” Mikha cringed at this and laughed at her partner who said the cheesiest line this evening, but even though that line is cringy, the adoration she felt for him just grew.
“Hehehe,at least napatawa kita,” YN said as Mikha just scrunched her nose but agreed with him.
“Sige~ oh, order na tayo ah?” Mikha with a smile asked and YN called the attention of one of the waiters to take their order.
YN and Mikha ate peacefully while throwing some topics in the mix, also using the time to catch up with each other's life and feelings.
Their dinner was a success as both of them were satisfied with the taste of the food they ordered. Paying and leaving the restaurant, the night was now late and the people outside in this city were lessened.
YN and Mikha walked around as winds hit their skin, cooling them off from the remnants of the heat left by the sun. Sitting at a bench, Mikha suddenly babbles with the air, making YN look at him weirdly.
“Ano ginagawa mo Mikha,” YN scooted closer and hugged his girlfriend. Mikha, who was now looking at the sky leaned her head at YN's chest and began to hum.
“Kinakausap ko lang yung langit, sinabi ko sana wag matapos yung araw na ito,” Mikha muttered. YN hummed and began to play with Mikha's hair.
“Bakit naman?” YN asked.
“Gusto ko lagi gento, magkasama tayo sa ilalim ng buwan, masaya, tahimik, nakikita ka,” Mikha said and slowly tightened her hug at YN.
“Hindi man lagi, pero sisikapin. Darating din yung araw na iyon Mikha,” YN said.
“Huwag muna tayong umuwi YN,” Mikha said softly.
“Heh, wala rin akong balak pa. Gusto pa kitang makasama,” YN said to her girlfriend.
YN and Mikha then let the night pass by while hugging each other in the presence of comfort and warmth. Midnight arrived and that means a new day, but for the two, there is no early or late in the day as they are together, feeling the love they entrusted with each other.
"I like you Y/n... I admire you, for what you do and just how you act. I've been keeping this for a long time so yeah hehe~ I hope you take my confession," Haerin said to me.
"Good, now how do you feel?" I asked the girl in front of me.
"It felt good! I just felt like I have this incredible confidence flowing inside me!" Haerin said proudly which made me smile.
"Uhuh~ so, here's the question. Will you do it?" I asked. Haerin then puts her hand on the table while she thinks.
"Hmmm~ I don't know. I mean, practicing is one thing, but saying it directly to him, it's just like hard you know?" Haerin said a little bit sad.
"Yeah, I understand that but look on the bright side, you are in a group with him on a school project! Don't be sad Haerin~ all will be fine," I said, giving the girl some confidence.
"Yeah, you're right. I still have some time," Haerin said to herself, probably cheering herself up which is a good thing.
"Now that we are finished with that, could you tell me again how did you know that your feelings for him are like, you know, real?" I asked and Haerin smiled again.
"Well~ it all started like this,"
°
--- flashback ---
°
Haerin POV
Going on a trip with my family is something quite special for me. A time where we can bond, see, and catch up with each other.
Truthfully, there is nothing planned for our trip today, we will just go with the flow as they say because sometimes, something unplanned will leave the greatest memories. Well, that is what I believe in.
Moving forward with the day, my family and I are now in our car, seeing the trees and the neighborhood as we pass the road we are taking.
Comfortable as my brother is driving, I begin to enter a trance. A trance where I can peacefully talk to myself, admiring everything that we pass by.
Honestly, who doesn't like road trips? I like road trips.
Anyways, being in my comfort for about an hour, we then saw a place from a glance where giddy, happiness, and excitement combines. Once we saw the place, me and my family members glanced at each other, probably thinking the same... Go to the Amusement Park.
We then parked our car nearby and the adrenaline is slowly pumping in my body. I unbuckled my seatbelt and went out of the car to see the rides and stalls that offer different varieties.
Amusement parks brings me joy, it just takes out the sadness in my life. From the rides to the mini-games, it will guarantee me fun.
Walking in the crowded pathways I see some kids dragging their parents and people in cute costumes. The overall atmosphere makes me happy, truly one of the happiest places on earth.
I then see a rollercoaster that looks awesome, telling my plan to my family, they allowed me to go and immediately, I queued up for the ride.
The queue for the ride is not that long. Once the previous trip of the ride comes to a stop, the line starts to move, allowing new people to experience the ride.
Rollercoasters are a must when you come to an amusement park, not only that it is fun, the joy and the excitement will top our feelings.
The staff that is in charge of the rollercoaster ride then guided everyone, informing everyone to fasten their seatbelts.
I sat on the second train and fasten my seatbelt. Being giddy, I just look around with all smiles and then, a man sat beside me. Looking at the man, my eyes widen as I know him.
"Mark?" I said and the man, or Mark then looked at me, quite surprised as well.
"Oh my, Haerin? Is that you?" Mark retorted making me giggle.
"Hehehe, fancy seeing you here though, also, be my seatmate~," I cooed making Mark laugh.
"Hey, we are seatmates in school, and now until here, we are seatmates," Mark stated.
"Coincidence?" I said and looked at Mark.
"I want to call it fate~ *winks*," Mark said, making me scoff at the guy
"Flirt," I scoffed and then we looked at each other. Seconds passed until we laughed at nothing, but the two of us are sure enjoying each other's presence.
After some time, the ride then starts to move.
We all know the typical rollercoasters, slow at the start as the train starts to climb until... Free fall!
"AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"
"THIS SHIT IS FAST!!!!"
"OH MY GOOOOOOOO!!!"
We can relate to that. But something everybody would not relate to, when it comes to riding a rollercoaster is holding someone's hand. Yes.
I held Mark's hand.
Mark didn't notice this yet but the warmth I immediately felt, the sense of joy, butterflies, and likeliness, it rushes in me.
Forget the ride, I'm holding a hand... his hand.
Mark sure is my seatmate but he is also my great friend. We've known each other for quite some time now and our friendship just strengthens when we became classmates.
The school projects we are involved in, nearly similar interests, and the way he portrays life, he just amazes me.
The admiration that I have for him is so great that this friend of mine that is dear to me, I begin to have some feelings for him as well.
Having a crush on a stranger is one thing, having a crush on your friend on the other hand is another.
Having a crush on your friend is like having a make-it-or-break-it moment. Lucky when I confess and he accepts it, but what will happen if he rejects me?
Will things around us be awkward? Will our friendship still be strong?
The tug of uncertainty surrounds me. The what ifs as others say. The ride is nothing on me now. What I'm more focused on is I'm holding his hand.
I looked at Mark who is clearly enjoying the ride, the wind blows his hair, smiling, and screaming in joy and excitement.
At that very moment, I saw his smile. I've made my decision. I like the boy who is beside me, my friend, my buddy.
°
--- flashback end ---
°
Y/n POV
"Like damn. The moment you knew you liked him is when you two are on the rollercoaster together?!" I exclaimed as Haerin just blushed at her seat while tapping her drink.
"Wah~ this is sweeter and cliché than I expected," I giggled as Haerin eyed me and gave me a playful smack to my arm.
"Hehehe, look at you~ but damn. Why not confess now then?" I asked.
"Pabo. You know him too and you know! Sometimes he will be giving signs and sometimes not!" Haerin stated to me.
"And your point here is?~" I asked, waiting for her response.
"I can't understand him..." Haerin said which quite surprised me.
"Oh... Well, that's something not extraordinary considering him but yeah. To make this all have sense, you're thinking if he is giving you or others a signal to love him or not, making you stay in a line where you are confused about your next move?" I summarized and Haerin just nods.
"To make it short, yeah. That's where I am right now," Haerin deadpanned as I giggle at the girl.
__________________
Haerin POV
Opening my eyes and seeing the dark surrounding my room, I sat up and rubbed my eyes, letting my yawns be free. After seating for a couple of minutes, I went out of my room, and then, my cat Taro went to me.
I picked up Taro and the cat just purrs in my arms. Stroking the cat's fur, I just let the peaceful silence takes place until my alarm rang.
Taro jumps out of my arms and curled herself on my bed.
Letting my cat be, I went out of my room, takes out some bread, and made myself a drink which is mocha, my favorite.
After my little breakfast, I readied myself for school. I replenished Taro's food supply for her automatic food dispenser before going to the cat, rubbing her soft fur, and saying my goodbye.
I then left my apartment then went to the bus stop. Seeing my bus is already loading up passengers, I ran fastly just in time to enter the bus and find a good seat for my mini journey.
10ish minutes passed and I arrived at my stop. The bus stops and I went out of the bus to take a short walk to my school.
Seeing the blooming flowers, pairing that with the cool gentle breeze of nature along with the bright sun, it's close to my definition of perfection.
Entering the school campus, the natural chattering of everyone is heard, some students running, and some just munching their food. A typical day in my school.
I then walked straight to my classroom and there I see some of my classmates and him, Mark, seated beside my seat.
Happiness starting to run through me, I let myself calm and walked to my seat. Mark then noticed me as he smiled and waved at me.
I reciprocated his actions and sat on my seat, from there, we talked and soon after, our teacher entered our classroom and started our lecture.
____________________
After our classes, my groupmates are now in the house of one of our members as we agreed to work on our shared project.
Our project is like mini-engineering stuff for us to understand the fundamentals of engineering itself.
"So we put this wire here to connect it from the sensor?" My classmate Minji asked.
"Wait, that wire is for the sensor to the power source," Hanni butted in.
"Wait wait, this wire is too thin to be placed on the power supply," Mark said.
"Then, let's agree on it, let's use this wire for our sensors?" Haechan asked us all.
We all nod at Haechan and he connected the wires to it's place.
After about a couple of hours of making our project, we decided to call it a day. We all thanked each other and went on our separate ways, while I on the other hand, Mark was with me as our home is in the same direction.
Mark and I walk under the moon and stars from above with peacefulness surrounding us.
I looked at Mark and asked myself. Should I confess?
Confessing to someone you like may be quite stressful for some, but regret is more of a loss than acceptance.
I decided to gather up my courage and face this thought of mine.
"Mark," I called him.
"Ne?~ What is it Haerin-ah?" Mark stopped walking as he looked at me.
"I like you Mark... I-I admire you for what you do and just how you act. I've been keeping this for a long time so yeah hehe~ I hope you take my confession," I said full of hope.
I then looked back at Mark as he looks at me. These are the time when silence is like deafening. Mark gave me a small smile as I await his answer.
"Haerin-ah," Mark said.
"N-ne?" I answered.
"Haerin- ah you're a nice and beautiful girl, but... I am dating Danielle now. I'm sorry if I will reject you but, I hope we can stay as friends?"
"O-oh, is that so? Hehe, I- at least I released this feeling building inside me hehe. I- I thank you for being honest," I said, preventing the tears fall out of my eyes.
Mark smiled apologetically and we continued our way to go home until Mark and I part ways. We said our goodbyes until I am left alone.
Not even hesitating, I decided to take a detour. Instead of going to my apartment, I decided to go to Y/n's apartment.
Walking at a faster pace, I reached Y/n's doorstep in no time. I knocked at his door and Y/n immediately opened it for me.
I immediately hugged Y/n and cried as my emotions begins to grow. The sadness, disappointment, and even some shame come up to me.
"Woah, Haerin-ah, what happened to you?" I heard Y/n say as he hugged me back.
___________________
Y/n POV
I was cooking my dinner until Haerin knocked on my door and cried on my shoulders. After calming the girl down, Haerin told me that she confessed to Mark but got rejected by him because he have a girlfriend already.
I calmed down the girl who is clinging to me as she sniffles and wipes the last tears that went out of her eyes.
I patted her head and hummed music just to calm her down quickly. Haerin was looking at the show, sometimes giggling when the show throws jokes and funny scenes.
But while Haerin is watching the show, I was watching her.
Her beauty, her smile, her wit, and her cute habit of staring at people cutely, even sometimes mimicking thing that she saw. The way I unexpectedly fell for her charms.
Funny that the very same scenario is happening to me. Haerin fell for a friend, I fell for her.
I've been with her too, we bonded and shared laughs as well but, I think she has no interest in me...
Looking at the show, I just smiled at myself and accepted my role in her life. A reliable friend that she can lean on and a crying shoulder where she can find comfort.
"Y/n," Haerin called me.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"I wish the person we love can love us back..." Haerin softly muttered as she snuggles at my hug.
I smiled hugged her a little tighter and lean my head on hers.
Le Sserafim is one of the hottest and rising groups in the K-pop world. Filled with the concept of fierce, strength, and confidence, making many people stan, and even support them to the fullest.
As one of the fastest-rising groups in the world, they also achieved some feats that are quite impressive for a rookie group. You can also say that this is because of the members.
We all know Sakura and Chaewon, not only they are part of the Le Sserafim, but they are also former Iz*one members. The experience they have is unequaled, they share their experience with their fellow members, giving them a glimpse of what to expect in the duration of their career.
We can include Yunjin here, as we all know, she also participated in the survival show where Sakura and Chaewon participated. The only thing here is, that she is not fortunate enough to get into Iz*one but enough about that. Yunjin redeemed herself which led her to be a member of the Le Sserafim.
Le Sserafim then continued in their promotions, not even a disappointment from their fans. They continue to grow as time goes on and this time, the group is inside their building, practicing with full determination.
And now here they are, loved by the world and continuing to achieve awards and create their own legacy through their music and charisma.
Also amidst their portrait in the public as fearless girls, they are dorks inside their hearts. With each one having the perfect fit for each other's personality, they go well. This also results in chaos, which is good because if there is no chaos, there is no peace.
"Can anyone remind me why we let Kazuha make a dance on this part again?" Yunjin asked in regret.
"What unnie? It's easy!" Kazuha said with her ever-beautiful smile and did the move again.
"THAT'S BECAUSE YOU ARE FLEXIBLE!" Chaewon the short-tempered radish roared.
"You just suck unnie! Bleh!" Eunchae teased then made the dance move flawlessly.
"I can't you two," Chaewon muttered as she surrendered to the mindset of their maknaes. Sakura who is watching them is doing good than the others.
"Oh, I can't do this shit. Can I just do an opera thingy?" Yunjin asked their director.
"Opera? How do you plan in that Yunjin-ssi?" The director asked.
"It's like I will sing one opera song and then Kazuha will dance her ballet in the opening segment. After that, we will go back to our original concept then voila~," Yunjin suggested which caught the interest of their director.
"That's a good plan. We'll dismiss you guys for now to see the possibility of Yunjin's idea okay?" Their director said which the girls cheered on.
_________________
*knock knock*
"Come in!" Yunjin said and the person who knocked entered the room where Yunjin and her members were.
"Y/n oppa! I MISSED YOU!" The maknae of the group ran and hugged him tightly like he was her teddy bear.
"Oof. Miss you too marshmallow," Y/n said while he let go of the plastic bags he was holding to reciprocate the hug of the younger girl.
"Wow, your best friend is here Yunjin," Chaewon with a tone and Yunjin just shrugged and showed a smile that made her eyes wrinkle as her mind was at joy seeing the boy who once confessed to her but only to be rejected because of her decision to become an idol.
Usually, when you are rejected by the person it equates to the two of you being awkward and like your minds separates you from each other. But this unique time, Y/n may be rejected but his heart is not hurt. As one of Yunjin's best friend, he values the time of their moments rather than the day of his rejection.
But there is also one phrase that Y/n held on to until now, and that is
*flashback*
Yunjin and Y/n are sitting on a bench near the HYBE building where the girl is training to be an idol. Yunjin here just got picked up by one of the subsidiaries, Source Music who is creating a debut team that can make the world stage.
Y/n and Yunjin's friendship has been strong from the start, not even a crack is visible on their bond. An extremely extroverted girl is with an introverted boy who is just content with what is going on in his life right now.
Though in the eyes of a stranger, the two are couples, in reality, they aren't. Well now not yet, both are yearning for each other. They are at the point of finding one's comfort and presence but one thing that stops them is their dreams.
You can't go into life expecting full fantasy, you need to be ready for the plot twist as well. Life has never been easy, but when you have a mate that helps you go through it, it feels like you are on cloud 9, floating from the darkness lurking from the bottom.
"Aren't you tired?" Y/n asked the girl that was wrapped in his arms.
"I'm tired. But I'm not the one who gives up on my dream you know?" Yunjin said which made the boy chuckle.
"Ahhh Yunjin~ you are so stubborn sometimes," Y/n playfully scolded the girl, making them share each other's laugh under the beautiful sun.
"So why did you call me here? You're not the one who plans these kinds of stuff," Yunjin asked.
"Damn right. I gathered my whole self for this moment," Y/n said which made Yunjin giggle. Honestly, Yunjin knows where this is going.
"Huh Yunjin. What the fuck did you do to this former quiet boy back then? Why am I rambling now? The things that only you can do to me, the fuzziness I feel when you are near me, the butterflies when I see your smile, you make me flustered when you tease me even though it's bullshit," Yunjin laughed at Y/n's confession since it's her first and didn't expect it that it will be this good.
"But in the end, it's you. It's not your body, your beauty that makes me like this. It's you, It's your charms, the way you take me as your own. Every alone time we have you make me the happiest person alive and for that I made my decision," Y/n stopped and breathed deeply before looking into Yunjin's eyes.
"I may not be the one who expresses myself a lot but with you, I feel I can. So Huh Yunjin, will you be my girlfriend?" Y/n dropped the biggest question he asked and Yunjin stared at the boy with a smile.
Yunjin then steals a peck on Y/n's lips which surprised the boy. Yunjin then holds Y/n's hands making them look at each other's orbs that captivated their heart.
"I cannot, for now. We are preparing for our debut and I don't have the heart that can leave you alone in the air. So for now, I will be straight in my answer," Yunjin said even though her heart was telling her to tell Y/n the opposite. The boy on the other hand is not sad nor disappointed, but he understands where Yunjin is coming from. Though there's a tinge of scratch in his heart, Y/n keeps it cool and Yunjin then puts her hands on his cheeks, caressing it with a smile.
"Wait for me. I promise you that I may not be the best girlfriend ever but the happiness we had will be more and more. When the right day comes, I will ask you the same question and there if you still love me, let's be together for the rest of our lives. Okay?" Yunjin said full of gratitude and sincerity as she knew Y/n could be disappointed but the boy held the hand that was on his cheeks with a smile.
"Whatever or whenever that happens, I will be waiting Huh Yunjin," Y/n said, making the both of them smile.
Y/n may not have achieved what he wants, but the promise is enough for him to have faith in, especially for the future.
*flashback end*
For Y/n to wait for Yunjin until she is ready and in control of her life carrying her career. Juggling love life with a career will be hard and Y/n understands this and for that, he is ready to do what it takes to wait for her beloved girl.
"Sup Chae, anything interesting?" Y/n asked the leader of the group.
"Nothing as usual, how bout you? You creating music again?" The radish asked him back and the latter nodded.
"Yep, this one is good. In my opinion tho," Y/n said as he carried the maknae who was hugging like a koala.
"Oh? Care to share?" Yunjin said as she took a seat beside the boy.
"I plan for it to be sung by you so for now, wait," The boy said to his best friend and she just pouted but later nodded.
"Okay. Oh, wait, where are the chaotic Japanese sisters?" Y/n asked as the other members shrugged.
"Zuha is probably buying snacks at the vending machine and Kkura, may be sleeping in the corner," Chaewon said, and true to her words, the girl who has beauty in her name is sleeping at the corner like a princess.
"Damn I know I have my sight at Yunjin but you cannot ignore noona's beauty," Y/n said which made the conscious members giggle.
"Can't even argue with you there," Yunjin said while nodding while the maknae who was hugging me earlier was now sitting beside me.
"How about me oppa? Is Eunchae beautiful?" The maknae cutely asked and this one is a no-brainer.
"Didn't even need to think twice Manchae," Y/n said and ruffled her hair.
"I swear that you are siblings at this point," Yunjin said.
"Hey, I'm the only child. Having a lil sis like Eunchae is awesome," Y/n said and Eunchae nodded like the child she is making Chaewon and Yunjin squeal in awe.
Asked time went by, the Fimmies' break time ended and there, the Japanese duo noticed Y/n. Kkura greeted him with a chill and calm hello while Zuha... Let's just say she managed to plan a prank in about 3 seconds which is hella scary but is successful in pulling it on Y/n which the latter groaned at.
The Le Sserafim girls continued their practice afterward with Y/n still watching them go into their position and as always, they slayed. There are times when the maknaes live up to their name as they begin annoying their unnies but other than that, there's nothing special happened.
Of course, the maknaes targeted Chaewon first which to their credit, made her annoyed which was a win and Sakura just shrugged as she was immune from the attacks, while Yunjin, just laughed at them. Overall, the Le Sserafim is still humans! That is what makes them better! So to y'all bashers out there, grow up!
Anyways, Y/n excused himself at one point and the girls just nodded at him and the boy immediately ran to the toilet, visibly, he had many to unload...
_______________
Hours passed, and Y/n arrived at the HYBE in the morning and now, the sun is preparing to set from the horizon, giving the time to her partner, the moon along with its star friends. Not only the sun, but the girls will also take a rest now as if they want proficiently, they also need to listen to their body.
Wrapping up their dance practice, the instructor said goodbye and left while the other staff helped the idols who were cleaning the practice room now. Y/n as he saw them, he is proud. Proud that the idols that befriended him were not just for fame, but also full of humility and responsibility. As Y/n is sitting, he decided to help them too to somewhat ease their workload even if it is a wee bit.
After a bit of cleaning everywhere, the girls then went to their plans for the night. Y/n heard from Chaewon that she and Eunchae will go their home as she promised the maknae for a meal which sounds amazing while the Japanese duo will eat sushi as they crave it, then this leaves me with Yunjin.
The said girl and Y/n now are on the rooftop of the HYBE building as there is a garden on it for the idols to have a safe even if it is not that big. Since Yunjin is now well known as a celebrity in the area, having her with a boy can cause rumors not only for the company but ultimately for herself and her group. It's not a good time for them to have a rumor especially since they are still planting their name with one of the best in the industry.
Now that the two are outside, the sky is the time that everyone calls the golden hour. The orange skies and the sun peek at the horizon, ready to bring light to another part of the world. Sometimes, we just ask how did it happen. The beauty of nature is incomparable to anything man-made.
As Y/n was watching the sunset, Yunjin was at the back, looking at the boy with a small smile on her face. Yunjin couldn't be more happy as she found the greatest gem in her life, in this case, you. Y/n really did what Yunjin said, he waited patiently and this time, she wanted to end that wait for your end.
Yunjin thought about this after their Unforgiven comeback, this is also the time when she has control of her schedules, making it possible to make some time for Y/n.
Now with full confidence, Yunjin stood up and slowly walked closer to Y/n until she stopped. The boy who has his eyes closed and enjoying the natural air doesn't know what the girl behind her is planning. Yunjin then took this chance and wrapped her arms around Y/n's torso, making the boy widen his eyes as the girl who was hugging him nuzzled her head on his back.
"Y-Yunjin?! What are you doing?!" Y/n stuttered making the girl laugh.
"Thank you for waiting Y/n," Yunjin softly said, and the once-flustered Y/n calmed down and turned to face the girl who hugged him.
"Three years is a long time. You could have loved other girls than me, you may see and court some beauties as well but here you are, with me today, still clinging to the promise I made years ago. Jung Y/n, just like what I said in the past. Will you be my boyfriend?" Yunjin asked as she put her hands around his neck.
Instead of words, Y/n went for the kiss as his answer. Back then, Yunjin stole a kiss from Y/n, but now Y/n is here to take back what his from the start.
Their lips moved as one as the love that was stuck in their hearts was now free and they had the right to dance and show the hidden love but now, without limitations.
Fireworks after fireworks, Yunjin thought that this was worth it. Not a hint of regret from her past because now, she is ready to make it up for the future. Y/n on the other was overjoyed as his wait had now come to an end.
As they share their passion and love, the skies illuminate the gold and orange skies. Just as how beautiful the sky is, the love between former friends who are now couples illuminates it, making it one of the most beautiful moments in their life.
_______________
"Y/n, you can start now okay?" Yunjin said as the other members were behind her, eager to hear Y/n's voice singing in front of his now girlfriend.
"Hey Y/n, make Yunjin face what she missed for the last three years," Chaewon teased.
"CHAEWON! What was that?!" Yunjin said like she was insulted but the other members just laughed at her with Y/n giggling inside the booth.
"Oppa! You are gonna do well! I trust you!" Eunchae cheerfully said.
"Yeah! After this song, Yunjin unnie will marry you!" Kazuha said, garnering another round of laughter from the group while Yunjin was just blushing right now.
"Okay, stop punishing my girlfriend now. I will sing now, start it Yunjin," Y/n said proudly which made the girls coo loudly at him. Yunjin smiled at Y/n and the boy reciprocated it.
"Ready when you are Y/n," Yunjin said and Y/n raised his thumb. Yunjin then muted her microphone and started the music.
(Ctto; Better to listen to this cover for this part)
Y/n POV
It's kinda shitty isn't it
Not the way we pictured it
Feels like an existential crisis
Or am I being dramatic?
I looked at Yunjin as the first part commenced. Yes, we do have an interesting friendship, we may be close now but back then, many factors tried to separate us two. Does it reach the point of what are we gonna do from now?
I wish the world would shut its mouth
Give me space to fucking sort it out
Like, I'm fine, just leave me alone
I'm great on my own
The world is a bitch sometimes, but these words are not for me, it's for Yunjin. One of the most painful things to see is the hurtful comments thrown not only at her but also at the rest of her members. Many people don't know the hardships their girls went through.
But if I'm being honest
I'd hate to waste us on this
But I truly hope they find their own peace of mind
Yes, it's true, who are they to meddle with someone else's life? We live in different areas with people of different mindsets, but for now, we'll focus on ours.
I don't know what I'd be doing without you
You love who I am
'Cause I don't care as long as I'm with you
I'll reach for your hand
In this ugly world where the color is fading
You're beautiful in every color and shade I~
Don't know if you drink
Yeah, Huh Yunjin. I can't imagine a life without you. From the moment we started, it was all happiness. Our journey was not all rainbows and sunshine but heck, you made my world colorful, even just with your smile. With this Yunjin,
But raise a glass to the past in the story of us
A little bit of complication never hurt my body I know
But it's different when the target is your mind
The world targets everything in you, yet here you are my girl, still strong not only for yourself but also for your members. You are a vitamin, giving me a reason, all of us a reason to be happy.
And everybody's talking shit
No bigger hypocrite, it's fine, though
My sisters and I we sympathize
And I can see your unity with your members, the way you move as a team. No matter what words are being thrown into your head, you don't mind them.
But if I'm being honest
Never thought that I would have this
Back when all I needed was people who will stay
You stayed with me in all my lows Huh Yunjin, you didn't even hesitate when I called you for help. You made me the person I am today and for that,
I don't know what I'd be doing without you
You love who I am
'Cause I don't care as long as I'm with you
Yeah! I don't care about anybody, when I'm with you I'm happy, and that is now my promise to you.
I'll reach for your hand
In this ugly world where the color is fading
You're beautiful in every color and shade I~
Don't know if you drink
But raise a glass, 'cause
I will not get tired of saying these words to you my love. To be honest, I don't like to drink, but to the story of us, it needs exemptions hehe...
It took a while to get here
I'm fearless but I still fear
You'll disappear
'Cause I couldn't be
The person that you need
I won't ever leave
We made a promise back then, many days, weeks, and months has passed but neither, but neither one of us even tried to weaken our strong bond. My nightmare is when I'm not with you, because Yunjin, my life has been you. Now, that we're a couple, listen my dear.
I don't know what I'd be doing without you
You love who I am
'Cause I don't care as long as I'm with you
I'll reach for your hand
In this ugly world where the color is fading
You're beautiful in every color and shade I, I~
In this ugly world where the color is fading
You're beautiful in every color and shade I~
Don't know if you drink
But raise a glass
To the story of us
3rd Person POV
Y/n sang the last lyrics and not even a minute passed, Yunjin barged into the booth with tears on her face, she then hugged Y/n as tears of joy, pain, and gratitude combined in her mind.
Y/n smiled and hugged the girl back, also rubbing her back to calm her down. Yunjin nuzzles her face to Y/n's neck and she enjoys the warmth of his boyfriend, who stayed with her and treasured her. The loyalty Y/n presented to the girl is enough for Yunjin to love him unconditionally.
The Le Sserafim members saw this moment and smiled. They may not speak but internally, they all agreed to go out for a bit just to let the two have their comfort and privacy.
"Didn't know that you are that talented," Yunjin said with sniffles in between as she calmed down.
"I just wrote that based on what we and you've been through. I think it went well?" Y/n asked, unsure of what to say.
"More than well. Y/n, many problems dawned upon us but we stayed strong, it's like our problem doesn't even make us flinch anymore. We are fearless when we're together and I can't even thank you enough for what you've done. Like what you said at the end, raise a glass, to the story of us," Yunjin said with a smile and looked up on my face.
The two slowly attracted each other and slowly, their faces leaned closer and again, the love, the spark, and the passion inside them strengthened once again.
The two of them have been loyal to each other. They may have their choices, but they never forget one another.
Not long after, they ended the kiss and looked at each other with hearts shooting from their eyes. The warmth radiating between them is so strong and maybe, it will be stronger in the future.
_____________________________
One of my favorite works, I hope you enjoyed it :) 🤍
"Damn, Chaewon is breathing quite heavily there," I said as I look from afar as Chaewon and the host of the show 'Fearless Kkura' Sakura filming along with the animals we don't see every day.
"I kinda feel like she is not breathing anymore," Noona said as I look at Chaewon who froze as the man who takes care of the reptiles put the snake on her arm.
I snickered at Noona just being the savage manager she is. Chaewon's manager has just nothing on her list to be scared of, but the girl she is managing has a lot on her list.
"Say, today's episode is about reptiles right?" I asked and Noona hummed in response.
"Yes, why? Want to get scales and poison?" Noona asked.
"Sheesh, calm your nerves down noona. I think I know why Chaewon is getting bratty these days," I said and noona just looked at me with a death glare.
"Shut up kid. See that snake? I think it needs a year's worth of food," I can feel the venom in noona's words as she gives me shivers.
"Damn, I'm sorry ok?" I just stopped as my thinking said that noona is not in a great mood today.
"Good to see that you know that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed kid," Noona said and crossed her arms.
I just chuckled and thanked my thoughts for preventing a disaster with Chaewon's manager.
"20 Minutes break everyone!" The producer of the show shouted granting a smile from the two members of Le Sserafim.
The two girls skips their way in my direction and Sakura went to her manager while Chaewon
"Y/nnie!"
Went to me, crushing me in her big hug.
"Chaechae, how is the filming so far?" I asked as I wrapped my arms around her small frame.
"It was scary! It was my first time seeing those types of animals," Chaewon said in a shaky voice.
"Don't worry Chae, at least you faced your fears right?" I said to brighten her mood.
"I mean yeah? I did face my fears," Chaewon muttered in realization.
"Well, you are already fearless. I mean you are already Fearless since you sang your debut song," I joked which made Chaewon punch my side softly.
"Aish, are you old? Stop making jokes like that ahjussi," Chaewon said and parted herself from me. I then see her smirking as I rolled my eyes.
"Shut it radish! Don't call me an-," I was about to answer Chaewon when my phone rang.
I excused myself and I accepted the call. The person who was calling me was Eunchae, Le Sserafim's youngest member.
°
--- call ---
"Oppa! Music Bank duties!"
"Is it time already?"
"Yup! Stop being lovey-dovey with Chaewon unnie! Look at me, a child who is working hard but being neglected by her manager. Huhuhu~,"
"Aigoo, look at you being overdramatic again,"
"Bleh~ you can't stop me. I can't stop me, can't stop me. Oh woah oh woah,"
"Singing to your sunbaenim's song, alrighty. Oh my, what did you eat!? You are energetic today,"
"For breakfast? Eggs and bacon! Also, it's tasty! The company canteen now knows how to season their food. Let's celebrate!"
"Yah! *Laugh* You are so savage. Ok, I will pick you up in a jiffy alright?"
"Ne oppa~ see you!"
--- call end ---
°
I put my phone in my pocket and suddenly, an arm wraps around me. Looking at the person, a radish girl buries her head into my arm.
"Sup Chae," I said and stroked her hair.
"Who called?" Chaewon asked.
"Our maknae calling me to fetch her and bring her to her job," I said and Chaewon looked at me with her fluffy cheeks.
"Oh right, Music Bank," Chaewon said as I nod.
"Yep, got that one right. Anyways, see you later love," I said and pecked Chaewon's lips.
"Are you going to the dorms later?" Chaewon asked me.
"Yep, I think I will also bring y'all dinner," I said and grabbed my coat.
"Ok then, bye Y/nnie~," Chaewon said and waved.
"Love you too cheese ball," I said and left the building to get back to my managerial duties.
________________
Y/n POV
The filming of Music Bank is now over and as always, Eunchae is looking cute as ever. As I am outside of Eunchae's room, a girl ran into me and greeted me.
"Hey hey hey," Bae from Nmixx greeted me.
"Would you look at that, it's the Bae Jinsol~," I said as Bae just giggled at me.
"How are you cousin?" I asked and Bae just shrugged.
"Nothing new, going in promotions," Bae answered.
"Love me like this huh?" I said.
"Yup! Say, you want to dance?" Bae suddenly said which made me flinch.
"Oh hell nah! The song of y'all is good, no question about that, but me? Dancing? No thank you," I said which made Bae giggle.
"Geez, no need to be aggressive Y/n-ah," Bae laughed at me as I scoff at the girl.
"Yeah laugh all you want, anyways, where are your members?" I asked and Bae just shrugged again.
"In our room," Bae said.
"And you're here because?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Because you said you are managing Eunchae and she is the host of this show. Figures that you are here so here we are!" Bae said to which I nodded.
"Well okay," I just answered.
"Now that's that, you want some tea?" Bae asked.
"Shoot. I want some topics," I said.
"Did you know that our Sullyoon has a crush on you?" Bae said which made me choke on my saliva.
"*cough* Yah! How is that a tea?" I asked.
"Dunno, just want to say that to you," Bae said which made me sigh.
"Yah, you know that I'm dating Chaewon right? Tell her that friends would be okay. I have the love of my life," I said to Bae.
"Gosh, you are such a wimp for love cousin, anyways message relayed! I will go now!" Bae said.
"Alright! Come here," I said and Bae and I hugged shortly.
"Good luck with your group okay?" I said.
"Yep! Bye Y/n-ah!" Bae said as she walks away.
I just looked at her and suddenly, the door to Eunchae's room unlocked and a potato girl pops her head out.
"Who you talking to oppa?" Eunchae asked.
"Bae," I answered and Eunchae nodded.
"Your cousin right?" Eunchae asked and again, I nodded.
"Yup! Are you finished changing?" My turn to ask her and she nodded.
"It's all in the bag oppa!" Eunchae said with her hyper energy.
"Then cool. What do you want for dinner?"
_________________
Y/n POV
Right now, the girls and I are huddled inside their dorm, around the variety of food that I bought them. The girls are casually munching while I'm looking at my laptop to arrange paperwork.
Just as I thought that the girls will mind their own business eating, a certain radish was looking at me while chewing kimchi inside her mouth.
Looking at my laptop, I felt a tap making me look at the one who grabbed my attention and suddenly, an egg roll is on par with my mouth.
"What is it, Chae?" I asked and Chaewon just moved the chopsticks in front of my face.
"Eat," Chaewon said.
I opened my mouth and let the savory taste of the egg cover my taste buds. I hummed and looked at Chaewon whose smile is getting bigger as seconds pass by.
"Is it delicious?" Chaewon asked as she begins to poke my inflated cheeks.
I nodded and Chaewon giggled and continued to eat with occasionally feeding me.
I just let her be as I know that Chaewon was just looking for me, one thing about Chaewon is, she is thoughtful of the people she loves.
Also, fighting Chaewon is a big no-no. She can be lovely and cute with her smile, but it's the opposite when she is angry.
The girls finished their food and now, they are just talking about random things, until Eunchae tells something for the group.
"Chaewon unnie," Eunchae called her unnie as Chaewon looked at the younger girl happily.
"Yes, Manchae? What is it?" Chaewon answered.
"Did you know that Sullyoon unnie has a crush on Y/n?" Eunchae said which made me widen my eyes at the cheeky maknae.
"Sullyoon? Where did you get that?" Chaewon asked.
"I heard Y/n oppa and Bae unnie talking," Eunchae grinned at me.
"Don't be nosy maknae," Chaewon said to Eunchae before looking at me.
"And you mister! Don't dare to love another girl besides me. Got it?" Chaewon said as I put my laptop aside and scooted closer to the girl.
"Got it, Chae got it," I giggled as Chaewon leans her head on my shoulder.
"So that's how Chaewon unnie gets jealous," Kazuha suddenly said
"You have only seen it once Zuha, wait for more," Kkura noona warned the younger girl which made me laugh.
"Are you all seriously going to talk about me? I'm here," Chaewon said.
"Nah~ we won't stop," Yunjin said in her mighty loud voice.
"Yah yah yah. I'm the leader and-,"
"You should listen to me blah blah," Kkura noona cuts Chaewon which made me giggle inside.
As I'm hugging Chaewon, I can feel her fists shaking up making me chuckle a little more.
"Don't be angry babe, I'm here," I whispered to Chaewon which seems to work as she begins to calm down.
I pecked Chaewon's fluffy cheeks as she snuggled at me.
"What do you think about Sullyoon then Y/n?" Yunjin asked.
"Sullyoon? Well, I think she's nice and friendly. That's about it," I said and Chaewon looked at me sternly this time.
"So is she cute?" Chaewon asked me.
"What?"
"Is. She. Cute?" Chaewon asked again.
"Yes?" I said nervously.
"Dumb ways to die~," Kkura noona sang as I glare at the older girl.
"So many dumb ways to die~," Yunjin followed while stifling her laugh.
I glared at them and then looked at my girlfriend who is already pouting at me.
"Hey hey, I was just telling about Sullyoon being cute alright? That doesn't mean that I like her the same way I love you," I said and Chaewon nodded and buried her head into my chest.
I caressed the back of Chaewon's head and the other girls in the room just silently laughed at me as I squinted my eyes at them.
"You will not leave me right?" Chaewon muttered in our hug.
"Of course baby. You are precious to me and you will be my forever," I said to Chaewon making the girl squeal.
The other girls begin to gawk at Chaewon and me, making my eyes roll at them but suddenly, Chaewon freed herself from my hug.
"I'm keeping this anger of mine but thanks to Y/n, I'm calm. Now let your leader-nim punish you all. Shall we start?" Chaewon sad and suddenly, the other members shuffled and left the room immediately.
I engulf Chaewon in a big hug again to restrain the angered radish girl, to calm her down, again.
But it seems like Chaewon has superhuman strength today as she pecked my lips and went to chase her members.
I just shook my head and stifled a laugh.
Sighing, I stand up and dusted my clothes and as soon as I opened the door, squealing and screaming greeted me as Chaewon hunts them like a prey.
Going to Chaewon, I dragged her to her room making the other Fimmies celebrate.
Making her seat on her bed, Chaewon pouted and again, her squishy cheeks is seen again.
Sitting beside her, Chaewon leaned her head to my shoulder, but I faced her and gives her kisses, making her giggle cutely.
"Calm down babe," I said and giggled and Chaewon just smiles widely and lay down on the softness of her bed.
I soon followed her actions and immediately, Chaewon latched at me making me hum as she snuggle.
Staying in our position, a few minutes later, a soft snore can be heard and I looked at my Chaewon knocked out in a wind. Giggling at Chaewon, I then caressed her cheeks and soon, following her to dreamland.
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