WRONG NUMBER PART 3
Pairing : Leehan idol x non idol FMC
Part 2 here
Content : MDNI, SMUT, P in V, “shhh be quiet pretty”, other idols mentioned, secret situationship. Sneaky sex
Plot: it’s crunch time at the venue, Serena is trying to navigate her now complicated “relations” with a certain blonde headed artist who hates the way other men are around her. Is this going to have a happy ending?
WARNING : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
TAGLIST 💬: @snoopymyung @jinviktor @rixarchive
(comment for next part TL)
Wc : 8k (this part was suppose to be in part 2 but i had restrictions so i split them up 🙏🙏)
ALL WORKS ARE FICTION!
——————ིྀ——————-ིྀ———————ིྀ——————
The green room is loud again when you step back inside.
The red carpet glow still clings to them. Jackets off. Ties loosened. Someone has already claimed the couch with a plate balanced on their knee. Takeout containers are spread across the coffee table like they won something.
“Finally,” Taesan says through a mouthful of food. “We thought you eloped.”
You scoff, slipping your bag onto the chair near the styling rack. “With who exactly?”
“Take your pick.”
Laughter follows.
You scan the room automatically. Checking makeup. Checking collars. Checking if anyone’s sweating through silk.
And then you feel it.
Across the room.
Leehan isn’t eating.
He’s sitting back in the armchair near the far wall, jacket still on, one ankle resting over his knee. Phone in his hand. Blonde hair pushed back slightly from earlier.
Watching you.
Not subtle.
Not pretending.
Just watching.
Your stomach flips in a way you refuse to name.
You busy yourself rearranging something that doesn’t need rearranging.
Your phone buzzes.
You don’t look immediately.
It buzzes again.
You swallow and check.
Donghyun: You look distracted.
You don’t look at him. You type.
Serena: I’m working.
Three dots appear instantly.
Donghyun : Were you?
Your breath catches. He knows.
You glance up. He hasn’t moved. Still staring. Thumb lazily tapping against his phone.
Serena: Yes.
Donghyun: That hallway camera blind spot is popular tonight
Your jaw tightens. He definitely knows.
Serena: You’re paranoid.
Donghyun :I’m observant.
Pause.
Donghyun: Did he touch you?
Your throat goes dry.
Across the room, Taesan is arguing about sauces. Someone laughs too loud. The world continues like this conversation isn’t detonating quietly in your hands.
Serena: No.
You hesitate.
Then add
Serena: Relax.
His reply takes longer this time.
You risk looking up.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.
Donghyun : I’m not relaxed.
Your pulse spikes.
Serena: I can tell.
Donghyun : Come here.
You nearly choke on your own breath.
Serena: They’re right there.
Donghyun : I didn’t say sit on my lap.
You bite your lip immediately.
He notices.
Of course he does.
Donghyun: Don’t do that.
Your stomach drops lower.
Serena: Do what?
Donghyun: Bite your lip like that while looking at me.
Heat floods your face.
Serena: You’re imagining things.
Donghyun: I’m imagining a lot of things.
Your mind betrays you again.
His hands. His mouth. The way he takes his time until you’re the one asking for more.
You shift your weight, pretending to reorganize a garment bag.
Serena: You have no self control.
Donghyun: I had control on the carpet.
Serena: Barely.
Donghyun: you were talking to him. Again
There it is again.Possessive. Tight.
Serena: Am i not allowed to talk to people?
That lands.
You see it in the way his jaw flexes.
Then
Donghyun: You have 20 minutes before we have to be ready to sit in the artist viewing area.
Serena: And?
Donghyun: Storage room. End of the hall.
Your heart absolutely slams against your ribs.
You glance around. No one is paying attention. They’re too busy eating and replaying fan reactions.
Serena:You’re insane.
Donghyun: You like that.
You really, really do.
Your fingers hover over the screen.
Serena: This is risky.
Donghyun :So was last time.
The memory hits like a spark down your spine.
He shifts in his chair slightly. Subtle. Controlled.
Still watching you.
Donghyun: Tell me not to go.
You inhale slowly.
Because if you say it, he won’t.
And that control might be the most dangerous thing about him.
Across the room, his eyes darken just slightly.
Your lip finds your teeth again.
Serena: …
He waits.
You don’t type it.
You just lock your phone and pretend to check the time.
His phone buzzes in his hand.
He doesn’t look down.
He’s already smiling.
Quietly.
Confident.
Because you didn’t tell him no.
Coincidentally, you receive a family member’s phone call that requires you to step out of the green room. Or at least, that’s what you let on when you excuse yourself.
The hallway is nearly vacant now. Most staff and talent are finalizing touch-ups or taking a last breath before the show begins. Your heels echo softly against the floor as you walk, just about to check your phone when a strong arm suddenly pulls you into an open doorway.
You’re already smiling by the time his lips crash into yours.
The kiss is punishing. Desperate. Teeth grazing, tongues fighting for dominance. His hand fists in your hair as if he’s been holding himself back for too long.
“Look at you,” Leehan murmurs against your mouth, his voice low and rough. “Smiling, knowing the risks.”
There’s a dark glint in his eyes before he grips your jaw and tilts your head, deepening the kiss until you’re breathless. In one swift movement, he spins you and bends you over a row of spare desks and stacked chairs.
“Who would’ve thought,” he continues, voice thick with appreciation, “the innocent stylist walks around in lace panties with nothing stopping wandering eyes from seeing all of this.”
His hands palm your ass slowly, lifting your skirt inch by inch. You shiver under his gaze.
“So pretty… hmm?” he groans.
His fingers slide beneath the black lace, pushing the fabric aside to reveal your already glistening core. The sound of a zipper fills the small room, followed by the soft swish of fabric. Then you feel him hard and hot rubbing the tip up and down your folds.
“You should call him,” he teases, voice dipping lower. “Let him hear how good you’re feeling.”
You don’t doubt that a part of him means it.
“It’s not like tha— fuck—”
The rest of your protest dies as he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch steals the air from your lungs. You bite down on your bottom lip, adjusting, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk.
He starts slow. Deliberate. Torturous.
His hands travel from your breasts to your throat, fingers wrapping there as his pace begins to quicken.
“Just like that, baby. Taking me so good.”
The rhythm turns rabid. The desk scrapes faintly against the floor.
“Fuck- oh m-“ your moans are abruptly cut off when his hand covers your mouth.
The spark that shoots through you is instant.
The risk. The possibility of getting caught.
It only makes you wetter.
“Shhh, pretty,” he breathes, thrusting deep again until your eyes roll and your legs tremble.
He pulls out suddenly, spinning you around and lifting you onto the edge of the desk you were just bent over. He steps between your legs, crowding your space, taking in your wide eyes and the way your lip is trapped between your teeth.
“Fuck, you can’t keep doing that,” he mutters, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth.
No instruction needed. You suck the digit slowly, looking up at him through hooded lashes.
“Oh fuck,” he groans.
He shifts, aligning himself with your slick entrance again. This time you’re ready, but it always hits different with Leehan. Always deeper. Always heavier.
As he pushes in, your head falls back, pleasure washing over you as he begins to move. Grinding into you. Claiming the space between your legs.
Soon his thrusts grow sloppier. Faster. Desperate.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the movement. His mouth crashes against yours in a rough, dominating kiss.
“Fill me up,” you whisper against his lips.
The sound you pull from him is wrecked.
He works harder, hips snapping into yours with urgency. The final thrusts have you crying out into his shoulder as you feel him spill deep inside you.
But he doesn’t move.
Even two minutes later, he stays there, buried inside you, his head pressed into your shoulder as he breathes you in.
The room is quiet except for your breathing
And his.
He’s still inside you, forehead pressed into your shoulder, fingers gripping your waist like if he lets go the world resets and this didn’t happen.
Your pulse is finally starting to settle.
“Leehan,” you murmur softly.
He exhales against your skin, slow and warm. “Don’t.”
You almost smile. “We have to go back.”
“I know.”
But he doesn’t move.
The hallway outside is silent. Too silent. The kind that reminds you this was reckless. The kind that makes the high feel sharper in hindsight.
His hand slides from your waist to your jaw, gently turning your face toward him. The dominant edge from minutes ago is gone. In its place is something quieter. Something searching.
“Did he touch you?” he asks again, softer this time.
You shake your head.
His jaw tightens anyway.
“He asked you to text him.”
You blink. “You were watching?”
“I notice things.”
You study him for a second. The jealousy isn’t playful now. It’s real. Raw. And strangely… vulnerable.
“You think I’d be here,” you say quietly, “if I wanted him?”
That lands.
His eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up.
“No,” he admits.
Finally, slowly, he pulls out. The loss of him makes you inhale sharply. He adjusts your skirt with surprising care, smoothing the fabric down like he’s erasing evidence. Like he’s trying to put you back together before anyone sees.
He tucks himself away, zipping up, then brushes a thumb under your eye.
“Lip,” he says.
You realize you’ve been biting it again.
He leans in, pressing a slow kiss to your mouth. Not rough. Not punishing.
Claiming.
“Don’t let him think he has a chance,” he murmurs against your lips.
You tilt your head. “That sounds a lot like jealousy.”
He gives you a look. “It sounds like I don’t share.”
Your stomach flips.
A knock echoes faintly down the hall.
“Two minutes!” someone calls.
Reality slams back in.
You hop down from the desk, smoothing your hair, adjusting your expression into something professional. He watches you do it like it fascinates him.
“You’re insane,” you whisper.
“You came,” he replies simply.
You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are warm.
Before you open the door, he catches your wrist.
“If he texts you,” he says quietly, eyes darker again, “show me.”
You hold his gaze.
“And if you keep dragging me into storage rooms?” you counter.
A slow smirk curves his mouth.
“I won’t need to drag you.”
Your breath hitches.
You slip your wrist from his grip and step back into the hallway first, checking both directions. Clear.
By the time you both walk back into the green room, you look composed. Calm. In control.
Taesan glances up from his phone. “Took a while.”
“Family,” you say smoothly.
Leehan walks in behind you, unbothered, fixing his cuff like nothing happened.
But when he passes you, his fingers brush lightly against the small of your back.
Subtle.
Possessive.
And just enough to remind you
This isn’t over.
The artist viewing section is all polished smiles and careful posture.
On the backstage monitor, you watch them seated in their assigned row. Jackets sharp. Hair untouched despite the humidity of lights and bodies. Cameras sweep across them every few minutes, catching reactions, applause, polite laughter.
No phones. No distractions. Just performance even while sitting down.
Leehan sits composed, hands folded loosely in his lap when he’s not clapping. Expression neutral but attentive. He leans toward Taesan once, murmurs something that makes the younger one smirk before quickly straightening again when a camera passes.
He looks calm.
Disciplined.
Untouchable.
Backstage is the opposite.
The quick change room feels almost clinical in comparison. Cooler air. Bright lights. Controlled silence. You’re alone now, setting up for the quick change. Two awards left before they rush back in.
You lay out the stage accessories in order.
Cufflinks paired carefully beside each jacket. Rings aligned in neat rows. In-ears checked and placed exactly where they need to be for fast hands and faster movement.
You double-check the 360 stage adjustments in your mind. No outfit changes between songs. Everything has to be perfect before they walk out.
You pick up Leehan’s cufflinks last.
Cold metal against your fingers.
Your mind flashes back before you can stop it.
The storage room. His hand at your throat. The way he didn’t move afterward.
You set the cufflinks down more firmly than intended.
Focus.
The host announces another winner. Applause echoes through the monitor speakers. The camera cuts to your boys again. They rise briefly to congratulate the group passing by. Polite bows. Firm handshakes. Controlled smiles.
Leehan looks effortless.
Like he isn’t carrying the memory of you pressed against a desk.
Your stomach tightens.
You move to the garment rack, smoothing the stage jackets one more time. Fingers checking seams, tugging lightly at hems. You adjust the placement of his ring by a centimeter, even though it was already straight.
Two awards.
The arena noise swells through the walls when a major category is announced. Even backstage you can feel the vibration under your feet.
You step back and take in the setup.
Everything in place.
Everything ready.
Unlike the tension coiled low in your stomach.
The second-to-last award is announced. More applause. More standing. More bows.
They’re almost done.
You glance at the clock.
Timing it in your head.
How long it will take them to clear the artist section. How long to walk backstage. How much time you have to get jackets on, mics secured, accessories fastened before they head to the 360 stage.
You exhale slowly.
This is the calm before impact.
The final award before their performance is announced.
On the monitor, they sit straighter. Focus sharpening. You know that shift. The internal
switch flipping from spectator to performer.
You reach for Leehan’s jacket, holding it for a moment before placing it back exactly where it belongs.
Two minutes.
In two minutes, the door will swing open.
They’ll flood back in.
And he’ll walk through it like nothing happened.
Like he didn’t have you shaking in a storage room less than an hour ago.
You smooth your expression in the reflection of the mirror.
The door swings open right on cue.
Noise floods in with them.
Adrenaline. Applause still echoing faintly from the arena. The energy shift is immediate. Spectators are gone. Performers are back.
“Two minutes!” the stage manager calls.
The room moves like muscle memory.
Jackets off chairs. Hands reaching for assigned pieces without being told. You step forward instantly, sliding cufflinks into waiting hands, fastening clasps, straightening collars as they rotate around you.
“Mic check,” one of the audio staff says, moving down the line.
They fall into formation near the mirror.
Low hums start first.
“Mm—mm—mm.”
Lip trills. Controlled breaths. Scales under their breath.
Taesan rolls his shoulders, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Another member shakes out his arms, exhaling hard. Someone mutters the first line of the opening verse just to feel it sit right in their chest.
You adjust Leehan’s in-ear as he stands still for you, jaw relaxed while he runs a quiet scale under his breath.
His voice is steady.
Focused.
Different from earlier.
He clears his throat once and tests a higher note, nodding when it lands clean. You smooth the lapel of his jacket automatically.
“Levels good?” you ask the audio tech.
“Good.”
The stage manager pops their head in again. “Positions in thirty!”
The boys gather in a tight circle in the center of the room.
Hands stack in.
You and the rest of the staff step back slightly but stay close enough to feel it.
There’s a second of quiet.
Then one of them starts the chant. Loud. Sharp. Familiar.
They shout their group name in unison, voices bouncing off the walls. Once. Twice. Louder the third time.
The room erupts.
Staff clap, cheer, whistle.
“Let’s go!”
“Kill it!”
“Have fun!”
Adrenaline spikes through the air like static.
They break the huddle, lining up at the door that leads to stage access. The bass from the arena is louder now. You can feel it through the floor.
One by one, they step out.
High fives from staff. Encouraging pats on shoulders.
Taesan grins at you as he passes.
Riwoo flashes you a quick thumbs up before disappearing down the corridor.
Leehan is last.
Of course he is.
He pauses just long enough for you to adjust something invisible on his sleeve. Professional. Efficient.
Then, as he steps past you
His fingers brush the small of your back.
Hidden from everyone else.
Your breath stutters for half a second.
You keep your expression composed. “Have fun out there.”
He glances over his shoulder.
And winks.
Not cocky.
Not exaggerated.
Just for you.
Then he’s gone.
The roar of the arena swallows him whole as the stage lights flare.
And you’re left backstage heart beating just a little too fast
Watching the monitor as they take the 360 stage.
The lights drop without warning.
The arena inhales as one.
Then the bass hits.
From backstage, the floor vibrates beneath your heels as the 360 stage ignites red signaling the beginning of nice guy. The bar props are moved in by dancers. The camera cranes sweep overhead.
Woonhak opens the stage with his part before meeting riwoo.
The crowd loses its mind.
You watch from the side monitor, arms folded tight across your chest, trying to keep your breathing even.
Taesan and jaehyun make it clean out of the sports car and the camera switches to Leehan.
Your breathing falters as he stares down the barrel of the camera, god he knows he looks good you think as the camera follows, soon sungho joins him and they finish the opening member parts.
Blonde hair catching the strobes. Jaw set. Expression cool and unreadable.
He doesn’t look like someone who had you pinned against a desk earlier.
He looks untouchable.
The chorus hits. Smooth footwork, clean transitions as they rotate around the stage so no side feels ignored. The cameras orbit them constantly, red tally lights blinking as they capture every micro-expression.
He’s locked in.
Every move precise. Every turn deliberate.
And then his vocal line comes.
You know exactly when it’s about to happen. Your body tenses before he even opens his mouth.
His voice cuts through the arena effortlessly. Strong. Controlled. Just a slight rasp at the edge that wasn’t there during rehearsal.
The crowd screams louder.
He steps forward into center position, shoulders rolling with the beat, eyes scanning over the audience like he owns it.
You swallow.
Halfway through the second chorus, they still have the same energy they opened with.
He’s sweating now, just enough to make the blonde strands cling slightly to his forehead.
He looks unreal under the lights.
The dance break hits.
The audience roars with every beat drop.
From your angle backstage, you can see the discipline in it. The breath control. The split-second glances they use to confirm timing.
The kiss transition goes as planned and it leads them into the second song of the performance. Cold Smoke gun shoot off around the stage as the chorus of earth wind and fire blasts though out the arena surprising the other idols seated in the viewing area.
The final chorus explodes.
Confetti cannons fire from the outer rim of the stage. Lights strobe faster. The crowd is on its feet.
He hits the last note steady, strong, not even wavering.
Professional to the very end.
The final pose lands.
Silence for half a second
Then the arena detonates into cheers.
the boys are breathing heavy as the lights fade and the introduction for the next award plays over the sound systems. Rushing to the stage exit and heading into the tunnels.
From backstage, you finally exhale.
Because they nailed it.
As they exit the stage tunnel, flushed and glowing with adrenaline, you can already see it on his face.
The performance high.
And something else underneath it.
The boys spill into the corridor in a rush of laughter and overlapping voices.
“That was crazy,” Jaehyun says, still breathless. “When the lights rotated during the bridge? I could see every section.”
“The fanchants were loud,” Taesan adds. “Like actually loud. I couldn’t even hear my in-ears for a second.”
Woonhak is grinning so hard his cheeks look sore. “The 360 was it. When we turned on the final chorus and everyone stood up? I felt that.”
Leehan walks slightly behind them, rolling his shoulders as staff remove his mic pack. His blonde hair is damp, pushed back messily, eyes still sharp from the stage lights.
He catches your eye.
There’s that small nod again. Not cocky. Just satisfied.
You give him one back.
Back in the green room, the energy slowly settles. Jackets come off. Towels are thrown around necks. Someone has already laid out containers of food. Rice bowls, fried chicken, fruit cups, bottled drinks lined up neatly on the table.
The boys drop wherever there’s space.
Taesan sits on the floor with his back against the couch. Woonhak sprawls across one side like he owns it. Jaehyun is already halfway through his chicken before anyone else opens theirs.
“This is the best post-stage meal we’ve had,” Woonhak declares dramatically.
“You say that every time,” Jaehyun replies.
Leehan sits cross-legged near the coffee table, scrolling now that their phones are back. His expression keeps shifting between neutral and suspiciously pleased.
Your phone buzzes.
donghyun: u saw that right
You don’t look at him. You type back casually.
Serena: I saw you almost miss your mark.
Three dots instantly.
donghyun: almost is the key word
donghyun: i saved it
A second later:
donghyun: did i look good
You fight the smile threatening to give you away.
Serena: Your mic was stable. That’s what matters.
Across the room, he glances up.
Smirks.
Your phone buzzes again.
donghyun: so i looked good
You ignore that one.
The door opens and one of the managers steps in, phone in hand, eyebrows raised in a way that means news.
“Guys. You’re trending.”
Every head snaps up.
“For what?” Taesan asks.
“For everything,” the manager says, scrolling. “Performance clips are blowing up. And the styling.” He looks directly at you. “People are talking about the fits. Especially how they worked on a 360 stage. A lot of praise.”
You blink. “Already?”
“It’s everywhere. ‘Best coordinated look tonight.’ ‘Whoever styled them understood the stage.’ That kind of thing.”
Woonhak immediately points at you. “I told you the layered jackets would hit.”
“They didn’t restrict anything either,” Jaehyun adds. “We could move properly.”
Leehan says nothing out loud.
Your phone buzzes again.
donghyun: told u
donghyun: they only looked that good because of u
Your throat feels a little tight. You don’t answer.
That’s when a temporary staff member slips into the room. One of the newer assistants helping during award season.
She walks straight toward Leehan with a water bottle.
“You were incredible,” she says, a little too brightly. “The blonde under those lights? Insane.”
He looks up, polite smile settling on his face. “Ah. Thank you.”
“No, seriously,” she continues, standing just slightly too close. “When you turned during the second chorus I forgot I was working.”
He laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just trying not to slip.”
She touches his arm briefly. “Well. It didn’t look like that.”
From where you’re standing, it looks like he’s enjoying it. Not encouraging, not stopping it. Just sitting there with that soft smile, listening.
Your stomach twists.
Fine.
You move toward the couch and sit beside Woonhak.
“You still playing Valorant?” you ask casually.
His face lights up instantly. “Yeah. I ranked up last week.”
“No way. What rank now?”
“Diamond,” he says proudly. “Barely.”
“That’s not barely,” you laugh. “That’s solid.”
“You play at night?”
“Sometimes. If I’m not dead from work.”
“You should queue with me sometime,” he says, leaning in a little. “Our comms would be elite.”
“Only if you don’t rage,” you tease.
Across the room, silence.
Your phone buzzes.
donghyun: u look busy
You don’t look at him.
Serena: We’re talking about games.
A pause.
donghyun: i don’t like games
Another buzz.
donghyun: unless im winning
You can feel his eyes on you now. When you finally glance up, he’s not smiling.
The performance high is still there. But there’s something sharper layered underneath.
Thirty minutes pass like this. Food containers empty. Laughter fades into relaxed chatter. Phones scroll. Makeup gets lightly retouched for camera cuts.
Eventually the manager claps his hands lightly. “Alright, ten minutes. We’re heading back to the artist viewing section.”
The boys groan in unison but start gathering themselves.
Jackets back on. Hair adjusted. Quick mirror checks.
Leehan stands last.
Your phone buzzes one more time.
donghyun:don’t flirt too much
You look up.
He’s already walking toward the door with the others, expression calm, unreadable.
But he doesn’t look oblivious anymore.
And when he glances back at you before exiting, there’s a quiet challenge in his eyes.
The artist viewing area had shifted from tense to loose the second the final performance ended. The boys were sunk into their seats now, jackets slightly undone, hair a little less perfect, riding the high of the night. Another award added to the stack. Best Performance included.
Back in the green room, everything had flipped. What was once chaos was now controlled dismantling. Kits zipped shut. Garments rehung. Managers checking van assignments. Assistants moving quickly, voices overlapping in practiced rhythm.
Minjae gave you a thumbs up. “All your cases are packed.”
So now it was just waiting.
When the show officially wrapped, the hallways flooded instantly. Staff, idols, security, everyone funneling back to their respective spaces. It was loud. Crowded. Hot.
You picked the worst possible time to go grab a drink.
You were wedged between two managers trying to pass each other when
“RENA UNNIE!”
You turned just in time to brace yourself.
Eunchae slipped through the crowd with a grin so wide it nearly knocked the exhaustion off your face. She grabbed your hands like she hadn’t seen you in months instead of a few weeks.
“Unnie ! Wait - who did you style tonight?”
You laughed, still trying to catch your breath. “BoyNextDoor. I was lead today.”
Her eyes went round. “That was YOU?, they are all anyone is talking about.”
Sakura appeared beside her, smiling warmly. “The detailing on the jackets? I noticed immediately.”
“Please,” you huffed playfully, pointing at Eunchae. “Your stage was insane. I almost forgot I was working.”
Chaewon slid into the conversation like she’d been waiting for her cue. “So when are you letting us come over again?”
You blinked. “You’re inviting yourselves now?”
“Yes,” Eunchae answered immediately.
“Tonight?” Chaewon added, hopeful but already half-decided.
You hesitated just long enough to think about the consequences.
Then you smiled. “Tonight’s fine.”
The girls lit up like you’d handed them a trophy.
“Okay we’re coming over,” Eunchae declared, already planning it.
“We’ll text you,” Sakura added gently.
The warmth lingered even as they were ushered along by staff.
It hit you. A sudden prickle.
The slow burn along the side of your face.
You didn’t have to look to know he’d seen it.
But you did anyway.
Leehan stood a few paces back with the members. Not tense. Not outwardly bothered.
Just watching.
His expression was composed. Almost unreadable.
But his eyes lingered longer than necessary.
And behind him, Taesan’s gaze shifted between the two of you, thoughtful. Measuring.
You swallowed.
Tonight was going to be interesting.
The hallway was still a mess of bodies and noise when LE SSERAFIM’s managers reappeared like clockwork.
“Girls, we need to move.”
There was a chorus of quick goodbyes.
“Text us!” Eunchae called, already being steered backward.
Sakura gave you a small wave before security folded around them and carried them down the corridor in a tight formation.
And just like that, they were gone.
The space they left behind closed instantly.
You were swallowed back into the current of staff and talent trying to move in opposite directions. A garment bag brushed your shoulder. Someone’s headset cord snagged briefly against your sleeve before they apologized and rushed off. You tried to step sideways, but there was nowhere to go.
For a second, you were just stuck.
Then a hand slid around your wrist.
Not rough. Not urgent. Just firm enough to steer.
“Excuse us,” Leehan said smoothly to the staff blocking your path, guiding you out of the worst of the crowd.
You barely had time to process before he’d shifted you behind him, creating space with his shoulders alone. A manager muttered an apology as he passed. Leehan didn’t acknowledge it.
He only let go once you were clear of the chaos.
“You’re going to get crushed in there,” he said lightly, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Can’t let my stylist get hurt.”
My
Not our.
You raised a brow. “Your stylist?”
He didn’t smile.
“What were you talking about?”
You laughed automatically, still riding the buzz of the night. “I think I just got trapped into having people over.”
He didn’t laugh back.
Your smile faded completely.
The rest of the walk back to the green room was quieter than it should have been. Not awkward. Just charged. His hand hovered at the small of your back whenever the hallway tightened again, guiding without touching.
By the time you stepped inside, the controlled chaos had resumed. Garment bags lined the walls. Awards sat carefully on the main table like trophies waiting to be admired.
The boys were still in their stage outfits, hair and makeup untouched, adrenaline keeping them upright.
“Quick photos before we change,” the manager called.
They gathered automatically, Best Performance placed front and center. Phones came out. Staff hovered. The room buzzed with leftover excitement.
Then the manager looked at you.
“You were a big part of them winning Best Performance. Your styling told the story.”
You blinked. “Oh—”
“Come here,” he insisted, already motioning you forward. “Hold it. Take one with them.”
The boys parted easily to let you step into the center. The award was placed carefully in your hands.
“Okay, cute one first,” someone said.
You smiled, lifting the trophy slightly.
Sungho to your left.
Woonhak leaning in.
Taesan slightly off to the side.
And Leehan.
Right behind you.
Close enough that you could feel the heat of him even before he moved.
“Alright, one more!” the manager called. “Point at her. Clap for her.”
The boys exaggerated it instantly, fingers aimed at you, playful applause filling the room.
And then
A hand slipped to your waist.
Hidden completely by the bodies around you. Invisible to the camera.
But unmistakable.
His palm settled there like it belonged.
Warm.
Possessive.
You sucked in air through your teeth at the contact. The fabric of your outfit suddenly felt thinner than it was.
He didn’t squeeze.
Didn’t move.
Just held.
The photos snapped in rapid succession.
“Got it!” someone announced.
His hand disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
The moment dissolved into noise. The boys bowed lightly toward the staff, thanking everyone involved. Compliments bounced around the room. Laughter returned.
You stepped back into your corner, heart still beating faster than it should have been.
As people started packing up for real, a shiver ran through you.
Minjae noticed immediately. “You okay?”
“Just cold,” you muttered.
He shrugged. “I’d give you my jacket but—” He looked down at himself. “Right. Didn’t bring one.”
Before you could wave it off, something heavy dropped over your shoulders.
Black.
Warm.
Far too big.
You almost disappeared inside it.
“You can use this if you like, stylist-nim,” Leehan said casually.
You swallowed. “Thank you.”
Taesan was watching. Not openly. But watching.
Leehan leaned in just enough that no one else would notice.
“I can always come pick it up,” he murmured softly. “Or you can keep it.”
Your brain stalled.
He stepped away before you could respond, disappearing to change into his own clothes.
You stood there, drowning in the oversized bomber, completely speechless.
Eventually, the final dismissal came.
Everyone filtered out toward their respective vehicles. The boys headed toward their vans while you and Minjae walked toward your car.
Taesan slowed slightly as he noticed the two of you moving in the same direction
“Are you guys a thing?” he asked out loud.
Minjae went pale instantly. “What? No. I have a girlfriend.”
You choked on air. “And I’m single. Carpooling is just easier.”
Taesan studied you both for half a second, then nodded. “Hmmm Okay. Bye.”
He stepped into the van.
Leehan followed right after him.
Unbothered.
At least, that’s how it looked.
You were halfway through packing the last case into your trunk when your phone buzzed.
Donghyun: I didn’t like that
You frowned.
Serena: What?
A second later:
Donghyun: When you said you are single.
Your stomach dipped.
Serena: Well, unfortunately you are an idol. Plus does sleeping together really count as seeing someone?
The reply came almost immediately.
Donghyun: And if no one had to know?
Your fingers hovered over the screen.
The parking lot felt suddenly too quiet.
You didn’t answer.
You weren’t sure what that meant.
—————————To be continued———————-
A/N: HIII before you say it, I KNOW THIS IS SUCH A SHORT PART BUT IT WAS SUPPOSE TO BE APART OF PART 2 but i kept getting restricted with it being over 18k total for p2 sorrrryyyy ❤️ hopefully posting p2 and 3 back to back makes up for it hehe - T
