Archive of Our Own

Working in the entertainment industry was never as glamorous as people thought it was. Well, at least not from backstage.

You couldn’t speak on what it would be like to be one of the singers you worked for, but as a stylist, you had to endure all of the crazy schedules with none of the praise. You were basically just one of many invisible cogs in the machine.

From producers to managers to stage hands, you all played your role in making sure performances ran smoothly and polished products were put out for fans.

You enjoyed your job as a whole. You got to work with a lot of interesting people and explored your creativity in new ways every day. However, the pay was kind of mediocre, and the hours were nothing short of insane.

A lot of money would flow between hands in the industry. That being said, most of it went into the pockets of CEOs and company stakeholders. The little guys like yourself were left to fight over scraps. Hell, even the artists themselves weren’t paid that well.

Nevertheless, you were pleased when you got the opportunity to work full time at a real entertainment company. You’d done odd jobs here and there for a while, but struggled to find something more stable.

Finally, a small company decided to take a chance on you.

You had signed with KQ Entertainment a few months ago and had been more or less enjoying it.

You worked in hair and makeup, which was separate from the stylists who worked on clothing. In some ways, it was quite repetitive. Although you wanted to do as you pleased, you were new, and you had to listen to the department head.

That meant a good 90% of your job consisted of doing the same makeup looks, dye jobs, and touch ups all day every day.

Additionally, while the senior makeup artists got to work on all the fun projects like music videos and photoshoots, you had to follow the group around on all the grueling international schedules. You should have been grateful for the chance to see the world, but God was it exhausting.

There were only two of you in the traveling hair and makeup team, and you happened to be the two newest recruits in the company. Of course, seniority ruled, and the new people got the short end of every stick. The other stylist, a young man named Minhee, had joined KQ about a half a year ago. As you often traveled together, you got quite close with him.

The two of you quickly became a well-oiled machine, especially during tour. Minhee focused more on hair, and you were the better makeup artist, though you swapped duties as needed.

“Ah,” you sighed in relief as you finally sent the last of eight boys out on the stage. “It never gets any easier, does it?”

“Nope,” Minhee agreed.

It came down to the wire every time, brushes flying until the last moment. You always managed to send them out looking good, though, and you were proud of that.

“At least tour is almost over,” you grumbled as you stretched your tired body over a chair. “Just one more fansign and one more show, then we can finally get a break.”

“I can’t wait to get back home and see my boyfriend,” Minhee said with a slight pout. “These past months have really been hard on us.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be good to see each other again.” You nodded sympathetically. “As much as I’m jealous of your loving relationship, I have to admit it’s a lot easier being single when you’re on the road this much.”

Of course, you missed your friends and family, but that probably didn’t compare to longing for your lover. You saw the way Minhee and his boyfriend whined about how much they missed each other over video chat, often skipping out on afterparties and the like just to talk to each other. You, on the other hand, were free to explore the bars (and the men) of the respective countries you flew to.

You rested until the intermission in the show came around less than an hour later. The boys flew backstage, ripping their clothes off in a flurry. There was no time for modesty, and you’d honestly seen more than you would have liked to in your time on the styling team.

Once they were changed, you fixed any hairs that had been displaced in their rapid changing as needed and sent them back out. You had touched up Hongjoong and Yeosang this time.

There were never any specific members that you were assigned to style, but honestly, there were certain members of the group that you were more drawn to than others, namely due to the fact that some of them sat better.

Like Mingi, for example. He was one of your favorites to style because he could easily zone out and sit as still as a rock while you painted his face or styled his short hair. Someone like San on the other hand was a bit of a pain. He would too easily get distracted or fidget or twitch when the brushes tickled his skin.

They were all sweet, though. Your favorites simply lied with those who made your job just a little bit easier.

The easiest to style were Mingi and Yeosang. The hardest to style were San and Wooyoung. The rest all fell somewhere in the middle.

The night continued as such, and when the concert was finally over, everyone shared one common feeling: exhaustion. The artists were tired, and so were the staff.

You all packed up in silence, heading back to the hotel just after midnight.

Just as you were about to retire into bed, your phone lit up with a text message.

Seonghwa (Ateez), 12:37am
Hiii are u still up?

You, 12:37am
yea what do you need

Seonghwa (Ateez), 12:38am
I’m gonna go live so I need my makeup fixed, thx

You, 12:39am
ok

He then sent a cutesy emoji of bunny making a finger heart, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

Seonghwa was a bit of a diva, in your opinion. He was always respectful, and he sat well. That being said, he was extremely peculiar about his styling and his makeup, especially. He’d be the first member to find a flaw in your work and ask you to correct it.

You told him your room number and he came down a few minutes later. You welcomed him into your room, and pulled out the desk chair for him to sit in.

Seonghwa glanced around your living quarters for the night. Your dirty clothes were strung haphazardly across the floor, and the desk was littered with skincare and makeup from your morning. An empty coffee cup and a few used tissues sat on the bedside table.

“Your room looks like a war zone,” he joked.

You sent him a glare. “Did you come here to get your makeup done or critique my personal hygiene?”

“Right, sorry.” He paused. “I’m having a lot of texture around my T-zone,” he told you, making an air circle around the affected area.

“Gotcha.”

You pulled out your concealer palette, mixing two of the colors in order to shade match his skin tone. You warmed the product on the back of your hand before slowly patting it into cheeks very gently so as to cover the areas that needed it without disturbing the ones that didn’t.

He closed his eyes and sat still, silent the entire process.

“Alright, that should be good,” you said after you finished powdering him.

“Thanks. Do you have a mirror?” he asked, because of course he was going to examine your work to make sure it was up to his standard. It was already nearing one in the morning and your body was begging you to get some sleep.

You took a handheld mirror out of your makeup kit and gave it to him.

He hummed in thought. “Now that I’m looking at it, do you think my hair looks a bit odd? Maybe you should try to touch that up, too.”

You pursed your lips together, trying not to show your annoyance. You spent about another 10 or 15 minutes fixing up his hair before sending him off.

“Thank you,” he said, admiring himself in the mirror one last time. “No one makes my skin look quite as good as you do.”

“Any time,” you said. If he was going to be a pain in your butt, at least he praised you for your hard work.

Seonghwa sure did spend a lot of time in front of mirrors. He was kind enough, but you found him to be somewhat of a vain man. Half the time you saw him, he was either looking at himself in front of a reflective surface or spending ages taking more selfies in one day than you do in a year.

Not that you really cared if he was a bit self-absorbed. You kind of expected it from idols. In fact, you were just happy that the boys didn’t scold or curse you. You’d heard quite the horror stories from some of your other friends in the industry.

You said goodnight to him and walked him to the door, closing it behind him once he was out. Finally, you could rest.

After a quick shower, you passed out in bed.

And you even got to sleep in the next day. You were lucky enough to have a couple of days off before the next schedule, which meant you were able to explore the city a little bit, a prospect that excited you greatly.

You woke up late in the morning, rolling out of bed. After getting ready and trying to make yourself look pretty, you first went out to grab coffee and something to eat from a place nearby.

After a little bit of caffeine and carbs to fuel you, you set out to do some sightseeing.

You had originally planned to hang out with Minhee today, but he had come down with a bit of a cold the night before and decided to stay in. It wasn’t all bad, though. You could enjoy a peaceful day alone just as well as one with your friend.

You lived out your little tourist fantasy, taking pictures of all the novel things you saw. You bought overpriced food at tourist traps and stupid little trinkets to take home to remember your time.

Yet something felt like it was missing.

In the evening, you went back to the hotel and stopped by the bar to unwind and have a drink. The only downside to your day was that you didn’t meet any cute locals to flirt with, so you’d have to soothe your loneliness with a whiskey sour.

You sipped it slowly, watching some football game you had no interest in. You slowly swirled the ice around the glass, lost in thought.

You were in Paris, the city of love, and it felt like love was in the air everywhere except for where you went. All day long, you seemed to find yourself stuck behind couples. They held hands and took pictures together and shared smiles. You were just alone.

Even at the bar, you saw way more couples than you would have liked. For a second, you wondered if everyone had love but you.

You normally didn’t mind being single, but every once in a while, you sort of wished you had someone to share your time with.

You huffed and downed the rest of your drink.

Just then, you noticed a familiar head of long, dark hair. A pair of rounded eyes were scanning the serving station. It was Seonghwa, wandering around in the bar, seeming lost.

“Hey, Seonghwa!” you called out to him.

He turned around and greeted you, coming over to your table. He didn’t sit, though. He simply braced his hands on the table and leaned over it. His long strands of limp hair fell over his eyes.

“Do you know if they serve food here?” he asked. He had been looking at the menu moments ago, but he was struggling to decipher the text that was entirely in French.

“I don’t think so,” you informed him.

“Damn,” he muttered.

Seonghwa had holed up in his room most of the day watching dramas, and he was so engrossed in them that the time got away from him. By the time he realized that his stomach was roaring with hunger, room service hours had already ended. Now, he was on the hunt for something to fill his belly.

“I think there’s a McDonalds down the street that’s still open,” you told him. “I could go with you if you’d like? I’m craving their fries, anyway.”

He agreed to go with you, and the two of you set out of the hotel, walking out into the darkness. It was a little chilly outside, but at the same time you found peace in the silence. There was no one but the two of you out on the streets and barely any cars on the roads.

You didn’t make small talk as you walked with him. You were never really sure how to talk to the idols you worked for, considering that the two of you came from completely different worlds.

You didn’t mind the silence though, strolling comfortably next to him.

After some fifteen or so minutes, you made it to the glowing haven that was McDonalds. Their golden arches cast a yellowish halo over the sidewalks, and Seonghwa’s eyes seemed to light up, too.

He was thankful that they had a digital kiosk to order on so he could just click pictures that looked good instead of trying to speak across language barriers to a cashier. He selected several things, his order growing rather large.

“You wanted fries, right?” Seonghwa said, finger hovering over the screen. He had already ordered some for himself and was preparing to click again to add another.

“Huh?” You seemed caught off guard. “Oh, that’s alright. I’ll just order myself after you’re done. I don’t have any cash on me to pay you back.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would I make you pay me back?”

Even though it didn’t cost much, the idea that he would pay for you made you feel strange. Your relationship to Seonghwa was strictly a professional one, yet eating together and having him treat you to something seemed more like friend territory.

“So do you want the fries or not?” He pressed.

You stopped overthinking to respond, “Yeah, thanks.”

You sat with him in that empty McDonalds and ate your food, exchanging a bit of small talk, but there was a lot of silence, too.

Sitting across from him like that, you seemed to truly look at him for the first time. Of course, you had seen him on many days, but you were always in a rush to get him styled and out the door. This was the first time you could really slow down.

Seonghwa’s skin was free of any cosmetics, completely clean and untouched. If you were honest with yourself, you didn’t understand why he was so peculiar about his makeup. He didn’t really need it. His skin was clear and even in tone, all but free of blemishes. His features were balanced. There weren’t really any flaws for you to “correct” when you did his makeup, yet he still found problems with it.

Again, you just thought he was vain.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seonghwa suddenly asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Oh,” you said, trying to think on your feet. “I was just thinking about what kind of makeup looks I could do on you in the future. How do you feel about graphic liner?”

He thankfully seemed to buy it, taking your words as the truth. “Hm, I haven’t really thought about it before, but I’d be willing to try.”

You chatted with you idly, musing about some different ideas he had for makeup after you brought the topic up. You had deflected well.

Really, the only thing in your mind when you looked at him was how weird it felt to see him as just some normal guy.

After all was said and done, you both walked back to the hotel to head to your respective rooms for bed.

“Which floor are you on?” you questioned while in the elevator.

“Six,” he responded.

“Ah, me too.” You nodded.

You found that not only were you on the same floor, but his room happened to be the one right next to yours. What a coincidence, you thought.

Seonghwa disappeared into his room, and you into yours.

The hotel was nice enough, but you realized that night that the walls were paper thin, much to your dismay. You could hear Seonghwa in the next room all too easily. Every time that he opened a drawer or cleared his throat, you could hear it.

You prayed he’d go to bed soon, as it was well into the night, but Seonghwa seemed to be active for several hours after your bedtime.

Doesn’t he ever sleep? you thought in annoyance.

You sighed and rolled over in your bed, curling the pillow and pushing it against your ears to attempt to drown the sounds out. Normally, you were able to tune noise out, but you struggled. Now that you knew it was Seonghwa next to you, you couldn’t stop the mental image that it created when you heard him rustling around.

After some time, you glanced at the bedside clock. The red numbers glared 3:14am. You were almost about to text him and ask him to be quiet when a horrible sound met your ears.

You froze.

Echoing through the walls were the most gut wrenching sobs you think you’d ever heard.

You sat up in bed, staring at the wall where the noise passed. Your stomach twisted at the sorrowful wails. It wasn’t a sniffle or a soft cry. It was nothing but pure agony. He sounded like he was struggling to breathe, practically gasping in between his sobs, and it took your breath away, too.

You felt sad and you felt wrong. You certainly were not meant to be hearing this.

You sat there, trying to calm the racing of your heart and the lurching feeling in your stomach. You wished you could do something to comfort him, but you knew it wasn’t your place.

Seonghwa was just some man you worked for, after all.

You tried to lie back down and not worry about it, but his cries haunted you. After some time, they stopped, but the sound seemed to echo in your ears on loop.

You didn’t sleep that night.

In the morning, you had to drag yourself out of bed. The lack of sleep made your head pound and zapped your body of all of its energy. You had already hit the snooze button three times. If you did it again, you'd be late for work, so you heaved yourself to your feet.

You didn't even bother to get yourself ready on this day. All you could muster was a change of clothes and a brush of the teeth.

When you made it to the stylists room, Minhee unconsciously grimaced, asking, “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you grumbled, pouring yourself a cup of coffee from the staff refreshments table.

The boys also started to slowly filter in, ready to get dolled up for their fansign. Fansign makeup was generally simpler and more natural looking than stage makeup, so it would at least be an easy task.

You started with Jongho, then worked on Yeosang for a bit. After that, the next person to find a seat in your chair was Seonghwa. You swallowed hard as he sat down.

“Good morning,” he greeted you.

“Morning,” you replied in a bit of a mutter.

You couldn't look him in the eye. You tried to focus on anything else. Hell, you'd stare into the depths of each one of his individual pores before you'd be willing to meet his eyes.

Eventually, when his gaze did find yours, all you could notice is how eerily normal he seemed. He didn't look sad at all. His eyes were bright and full of curiosity like usual. He wore a slight smile and joked around with his members like any other day.

He seemed nothing like someone who has just been sobbing so hard you thought he would burst a lung some mere six or so hours ago.

When you finished his hair and makeup, he checked himself out in the mirror and looked satisfied. He took a few selfies before leaving.

You were at a loss.

How could someone have an emotional outburst like that and just be so okay the next day? You were sure that something bad had happened to him and that you'd find him looking heartbroken at work in the morning. Yet the only thing out of the ordinary was you.

You shook your thoughts away, cleaning your makeup kit up after all the boys were sent off.

“You doing okay?” Minhee asked, noting how airy headed you seemed.

“I'm fine,” you assured your friend with a forced smile. “The lack of sleep is just getting to me.”

You just had one more night in the hotel before an early flight in the morning would take you to one last stop in London.

After your duties were done, you holed up in your room, trying to find a little peace within those four walls. You watched some TV, did your skincare, tried to relax. The rest of the day was, thankfully, very average.

Sometime a bit before midnight, you heard the neighboring door open and close. It was Seonghwa, coming back from whatever he had been up to after schedules ended.

You went stiff knowing he was in the room next door again.

You tried to sleep. You really did. In spite of your exhaustion, your brain wouldn't shut off. You couldn't quell your unease or stop thinking about Seonghwa. Nothing seemed wrong with him, yet some sort of concern ate away at your bones.

You tossed and turned and you think maybe even fell half-asleep at one point.

And then it came again.

As if your entire body was waiting, the moment that awful wailing met your ears, you shot up in bed again. There he was for the second night in a row, sobbing alone in the wee hours of the night.

You were stuck in limbo because while you had a growing concern for him, you also were not the type to stick your nose where it didn’t belong.

The worst part of it all was that none of it made any sense. The Seonghwa you were acquainted with was pretty happy-go-lucky. He seemed confident. He seemed to love his job. He seemed to laugh a lot.

You splayed your fingers across the rough surface of the wall, then curled them into a ball. It was as if you wanted to grasp at something, to reach out to him, but there was a barrier separating the two of you. You knew that you couldn’t cross that barrier.

He was not your friend. You should not concern yourself with his matters.

All you could do was rest against the headboard and wait for it to stop.

Because what were you supposed to do?

Trying to confront him wouldn't solve anything. At best, he would appreciate the sentiment but still have the same problems. At worst, you'd make him feel embarrassed or uncomfortable.

You had the second night of fitful sleep.

In the morning it was off to London. You sat next to one of your coworkers on the plane, a woman who worked in wardrobe. You weren't as close with her as you were with Minhee, but you crossed paths and touched base quite often. Your hair and makeup had to match her clothes, after all.

You didn't chat much, though. She fell asleep before the flight attendant even wheeled out the first round of drinks.

You usually slept on flights, too, but not this time. Instead, you found yourself looking for a familiar body.

Across the aisle and a few rows ahead, you could just barely see into the first class section where he sat. While the artists got the best seats available, the staff were usually stuck in economy or business, if they were lucky. Today was a lucky day sat in business class, where the seats were just a bit roomier.

It also allowed you to see Seonghwa.

You found yourself constantly peeking in on him, as if you were searching for some answers that could be found in a silent air. Perhaps you'd look into his eyes and find every affliction revealed in an instant.

Instead, he was normal again.

He nibbled on an in flight snack, eyes fixed to the screen before him, which played a film you didn't recognize. You tracked his motions for a few minutes.

After some time, as if he could sense your prying eyes, his neck craned back to look behind him. You averted your gaze in mere milliseconds. You definitely didn't want to get caught staring at him.

You didn't know if there was anything you could do for him. In fact, you probably shouldn't even if you could. Your life was hard, too. You had your own issues to worry about, like your meager bank account and poor stress management. Seonghwa had significantly more resources to deal with whatever he had going on.

And you really didn't know what it was exactly that he was struggling with. People don't cry like that unless something is wrong. A break up? Family problems? Something else entirely?

It wasn't useful to wonder too much.

Instead, you decided to just offer him a little extra kindness.

When he sat in your makeup chair that day, you were just a little softer to him. You spoke in a calm tone and used feather light touches when you styled him. Instead of getting annoyed when he asked you to change something, you asked how you could do better.

Even after the tour ended, you continued being just a little nicer to him.

You would give him a little more patience and praise, but that's really all you could do. But, hey, you'd heard that when someone was having a tough time, even a little kindness could provide some comfort.

Unfortunately, what you were unaware of is that you did not provide Seonghwa with any comfort.

You unsettled him.

Why is she suddenly being weird? he would think.

He hated this new sickly sweet voice you used. He hated that you used to text him "hair and makeup in 15," but now you would say, "please come to hair and makeup in 15 :)" They were subtle changes, but they made him feel like you wanted something from him.

He started to wonder if you had a crush on him or something. How much he caught you looking at him made it seem like you did.

It wouldn't be the first time one-sided feelings had gone flying around the company. Although most of the staff had their own significant others or spouses, Seonghwa could think of a few times in which single staff members had made a move.

Just last year, a manager quit their job after they confessed their feelings to Yeosang, who didn't return them. It was uncomfortable and upsetting, since they all liked the manager just fine, but it was hard to stay professional when you mixed in strong emotions.

Now, Seonghwa had noticed a change in your behavior, and, to be frank, you made him uncomfortable.

“Okay, I'm done,” you said to him as you pushed the last strands of hair into place. “This look suits you so well. You're extra handsome today,” you praised with a forced laugh.

God, I hate saying corny stuff like that. I hope he appreciates it, you thought.

His own mental dialogue was saying something more along the lines of, she is really strange and bad at flirting.

Seonghwa was also thinking that he really ought to nip this in the bud before you got the wrong idea. He treated you with respect and kindness like he did all staff members, and he wondered if that had been misconstrued as interest. Either way, he felt like he needed to let you know that he didn't return those feelings.

A couple days later he was alone in the dressing room when he saw you pass by. This was his opportunity.

“Hey!” He called your name and peeked his head out the door. You stopped and turned around. “Will you come here for a second?”

Figuring he needed something styling related, you didn't think much of it. But when you entered the room and he closed the door behind you, it felt off.

“We need to talk,” he suddenly stated, serious as ever.

You cocked your head at him, forcing a smile. “Is everything alright?” You were slightly afraid he was about to chew you out something you had been doing wrong in your job.

“First of all," he swallowed, “I don't want you to think I'm scolding you or anything.”

Oh, here it comes.

You made a mental bet with yourself about whether you'd be told off about your hair or makeup skills. You guessed hair at random.

“I'm concerned about your behavior lately,” he said, and you were suddenly unsure where the conversation was going. “I want to maintain a professional relationship, so I want to let you know that nothing can happen between us.”

Seonghwa rambled on about work relationships and company rules, but you were barely paying attention. Your brain was working overtime to try and connect A to B.

“Oh! Oh, my God!” you practically shouted, cutting his monologue short. Your lip curled up and your brows furrowed in an expression that was somewhere between disgust and horror. “You thought I was interested in you?”

“Hey, you don't have to pretend,” he said, patting you on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort. “I don't blame you.”

He couldn't have been more wrong though, and you despised the condescending tone in his voice. For a second, you stopped being worried about his well-being like you had been for weeks and only thought he was so unbearably self-absorbed.

You wanted to yell at him and say that the only reason you were being so nice to him is because he was a pathetic crybaby and you were scared he was going to go off-himself or something. You were mad that he had made those assumptions about you when you were only trying to help him. You were annoyed that he thought himself so important.

“No, Seonghwa, you need to listen to me.” You put your hand up to pause him. “I'm sorry if I made you think that, but the only reason I acted differently is because,” you paused, struggling to form the words. You hated talking about emotions. They disgusted you.

From Seonghwa's perspective, it looked an awful lot like you were searching for an excuse so you could soften your rejection. That is until you dropped the real bomb.

“When we were in Paris and you had the room next to mine, I heard you crying your eyes out in the middle of the night. Twice. I just thought maybe you were going through something, so I wanted to be a little kinder to you.”

His face fell harder than the Berlin wall.

Moments before, he was his usual self, confident and smirky to the point of coming off as smug. Once you told him what you had heard, you found a whole lot of fear behind those big brown eyes.

His own feelings were a complex topic for Seonghwa. He had a lot of them, but he liked to pretend he didn't. He preferred to lock them away because the mere thought of anyone knowing he wasn't okay made him want to cry.

He couldn't stand to cry in front of others. He didn't want to be seen as weak.

His emotions were like a raging river, but he'd put a dam up to keep them from spilling out. If he so much as uttered a word of their existence, the floodgates would open and any unsuspecting person in their wake would be soaked in a downpour made of salty tears.

So every day he played pretend, creating a palatable caricature of himself for others. I am so happy! I am so confident! I am living my dream! I love my life!

He'd only let it out when he was sure he was alone so he could relieve a little of the pressure.

More often than not he didn't even know what exactly was wrong. He was just tired. He was so tired from spending all his energy making himself digestible for others. There are many worries to be had when you are trying to pretend you're perfect when you know you're not.

With thousands of eyes on him, he was afraid to truly be himself. He was afraid that if he showed the real him, it would pale in comparison to the character he played. He felt some compulsive desire to be liked by as many people as possible, even if that meant suppressing anything real.

Sometimes he wished he was like Hongjoong. Hongjoong knew that some people wouldn't like him, and he didn't care. He stayed true to himself and found satisfaction in authenticity.

That was true confidence, unlike Seonghwa's, which relied entirely on external validation.

He wasn’t confident. But, hey, fake it till you make it, right?

Now that you were standing in front of him, claiming you had been witness to one of his moments of weakness, he felt ill. This outcome was far worse than you having a crush. To add insult to injury, he was horribly embarrassed to have assumed that and been wrong.

“I don't want to overstep my boundary, but are you okay?” you asked, and he started to crack.

He hated that fucking question because, no, he was not okay, and now you knew that fact. Seonghwa was at a loss for words, tears already pricking his eyes.

So he deflected like always. He laughed through his discomfort, begging the burning in his lungs to go away. If he tried to speak actual words, his voice would surely break. At the same time, he wondered what that would even matter because you pretty much already knew exactly what he was.

A silent tear streaked down his cheek.

You grimaced. “Hey…” you called out to him, and your voice shook. You wanted to say ‘don’t cry,’ but maybe he needed to.

“I-I'm sorry t-to put you in this position,” he apologized through wavering vocal chords.

“Ah, seriously? Don't be sorry. I'm the only one who should be sorry. I feel like I invaded your privacy. That damn hotel had thin walls.” You chuckled, stiff and forced.

You and Seonghwa were complete opposites. While you were a pro at reflecting on and managing your own emotions, you were terrible at comforting others. Seonghwa found it easy to deal with other people's feelings, while struggling to navigate his own. Some part of him craved the same comfort he gave to others, but he didn't know how to accept it.

He sniffled. You didn’t know what to do. Should you hug him? Tell him everything was gonna be alright? Those all felt strange to you, so you just stared at him.

“I know we aren’t close or anything, but,” you pursed your lips, “you know it’s okay to not be okay, right? I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. It’s not my place, but you should maybe reach out to someone. I’m always available, too, even though I’m obviously shit at comforting people…”

You shifted where you stood. He didn’t speak.

“Right, well, I’m gonna get going, then. Gotta get back to work,” you said, and he just nodded to acknowledge you.

You patted him once on the back. Then, you left the room, shaking your head at yourself for being awkward. You wished you were the kind of person who could make others feel comforted, but you weren’t.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care. You cared a lot about people. You just preferred to show it through actions rather than words.

Regardless, you had done your best with Seonghwa, and you left it at that. Whether or not your best was good enough was out of your hands.

Seonghwa was expecting things to be strange between the two of you.

Yet it wasn’t. You went back to your normal attitudes toward him, no longer being overly sweet or doting. You didn’t avoid him or look at him differently. It was as if nothing had happened.

He was thankful for that.

He didn’t want to have to avoid you, especially not when he genuinely liked getting his makeup done by you. The other staff were fine, but you just seemed to have a magic touch. At the end of the day, looking presentable in front of the camera was his main goal.

If anything, he actually felt even closer to you as time went on.

The whole thing made him see you for who you really were. For lack of better word, you were chill. You didn’t seem to be the type to judge or overreact, and that put him at ease.

He preferred to go to you for not only your skills but also the way you made him feel. You weren’t rude, but you also didn’t sugarcoat things. If you thought something looked bad, you would let him know. He appreciated the straightforwardness.

You didn’t walk around on eggshells on him, and you didn’t seem to view him as the one thing he always feared most to be: weak.

Because you didn’t really see him any differently. He was a grown man, and he had made it this far in life, so you figured he could manage his own affairs. You had said your piece and let him know that you’d be there for him if he ever wanted.

You put your thoughts to rest after that.

He messaged you early one evening.

Seonghwa (Ateez), 6:37pm
are you busy?

You, 6:41pm
No

Seonghwa (Ateez), 6:42pm
can i facetime you quick? help me check makeup pls

You, 6:42pm
Ok

Moments later, a call came in from him, and you answered it. He sat in his room at the dorms, and you were met with the visual assault that was his makeup application.

“It needs work,” was the first thing you said.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He sighed.

Seonghwa hated being seen by fans with his bare face. Sometimes, before rehearsals or going live, he would try to do it himself if staff wasn’t available. There was a bit of a steep learning curve, however.

“Can you tell me why the foundation looks so streaky?” he asked, leaning in toward the camera. The product was patchy over his skin and clung obviously to his textured spots.

“What brush did you use?”

Seonghwa shuffled around items and pulled out the culprit. It was a large, fluffy brush that would clearly be better for powders. It was somewhat matted with drying foundation.

“You need to use a brush with denser bristles,” you told him.

More shuffling. He held another one up. “This?”

“Should work.” But then he tried to start directly adding more foundation over the existing product, and you cringed. “You should just start over. You’re gonna end up so cakey. That brand of foundation doesn’t build well.”

He practically whined, “But I wanna go live soon. I was gonna do a mukbang. My food is getting cold already.”

“Would it kill you to just go barefaced once?”

“It might,” he grumbled, grabbing a makeup wipe and beginning to remove the work he had already done.

He wasn’t like San, whose bare skin was so perfect it looked like it came with a built in blur filter. Seonghwa had flaws that needed to be covered, or at least that was the belief that he had held firm since debut.

“If you want, I can take some time to actually teach you how to do your own makeup?” You offered. “It’d be easier for me to show you in person.”

“When are you free?”

“Whenever, really. I don’t do much in the evenings,” you admitted, not caring if you sounded like a loser.

You spent most of your evenings by yourself after work. You could usually be found eating snacks in front of your television after a long day.

He hummed in thought before finally saying, “Tonight is really my only free day. Would it be too sudden if I asked you to come now?”

“Nah, it’s fine. Just let me get ready and I’ll head over soon.”

It was a little chilly outside, so you threw on a sweatshirt before grabbing your bag. You tossed your keys, wallet, charger, anything you thought you might need inside. You also took out a couple extra makeup products that you thought might be useful for Seonghwa.

When you arrived, you found Seonghwa in his room, sadly eating the cold food he originally wanted to livestream. He was barefaced, having taken off all of the makeup he sloppily applied.

It wasn’t often that they had visitors at the dorms. Only the boys themselves and the occasional staff member were allowed. The apartment that housed the three boys was pretty small, but they all had their own rooms, which you were sure they were thankful for.

Seonghwa’s room was the smallest of the three, but he utilized his space well, filling it with little decorations. Rather than just being a place to sleep, it had a personal touch.

You didn’t waste time with small talk, instead jumping right into his makeup lessons.

You didn’t want to overload him with information, so you just stuck to the very basics, focusing on skin products. That seemed to be his main problem, anyway. A swipe of color over lips or a filling in of the brow were much easier than painting on a second skin.

“Rather than a sweeping motion, you want to tap and press the product into your skin,” you instructed him.

He watched you as you demonstrated the application.

It felt strangely intimate. You weren't in your normal work attire, replaced by some sweatpants and a sweatshirt to match. Your face was absent of its usual makeup, and your hair was a bit of a mess. No frills. Just you.

He seemed to get a good look at you for the first time.

“I’m glad you work for us,” he suddenly told you.

You paused, looking at him in surprise. “Oh, I’m happy I could be of use.”

You really cared about your work, and you only wanted to do well. The fact that your bosses and coworkers were all great people made it easy. It felt really nice to get a little praise, too.

“I mean,” he grabbed you by the wrist, stopping your motions, “You make me feel comfortable. I really appreciate that. I'm glad you're not weird around me.”

You froze in place. His hand was warm and firm as it gripped you. You realized that he wasn’t just talking about how you performed your job but how you reacted to the incident.

“Oh, geez.” You scoff and let out a laugh. “You’re still on that? It wasn’t a big deal. I basically forgot already.”

“Put someone else in your place and they easily could have made it a big deal.” His voice was low as he continued, “I opened up to San once about how I was feeling, and he walked around on eggshells around me for a good month. I was afraid you’d do the same.”

“I guess I just assume that if you really need anything, you’ll come to me as I offered. If not, there’s no point in being weird about it.”

“Can I ask you something then?”

You nodded.

“What do you think of me? 100% honest opinion. I swear I won’t get offended.” He was trusting you to be real with him. Sometimes it felt like everyone else just said what they thought he wanted to hear.

“I think you’re polite and professional. You seem sweet, I guess. Handsome, but you come off as vain. If I’m being honest, I don’t think of you much outside of work.” You shrugged.

“You think I'm vain?” he said, slightly stunned.

Perhaps his feigned confidence was a little overboard and he hadn't realized. He felt a warm blush begin to tinge his cheeks.

“A little bit. It's just that you spend a lot of time looking at yourself and taking selfies. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It might even help you out in your line of work. Just something I noticed.”

He leaned back in his chair and laughed. “Interesting.”

The habits that he’d formed out of deep insecurity were coming off as vain. He had to laugh. It seemed that he was faking it a little too well.

You stayed a little longer after that, teaching him a couple extra tips and tricks. Somewhere around an hour after you had arrived at the dorms, you left.

You sat on the bus, watching the blur of colored street lights pass your tired eyes. As a soft, slow melody played in your ears through your headphones, you thought of Seonghwa. The more you actually knew about him, the less you knew what to make of him.

Something was telling you that there was a lot more than meets the eye.

Your inability to read him was confirmed when you received another message from him some weeks later, simply asking, “Can we hang out?”

You stared at the message on your phone with furrowed brows. What is this? Does he think we are friends now? Or maybe he wants to be friends? Why? You were skeptical.

You, 1:05pm
Did you send this to the wrong number

Seonghwa (Ateez), 1:12pm
no, i’m bored and i want to hang out

It felt a bit sudden and a lot strange, but you weren't necessarily opposed to the idea.

You, 1:13pm
Ok where

He asked if he could come over to your place, and you nervously looked around your apartment. If he thought your hotel room was bad, the clean freak might pass out at the sight of your actual living quarters.

You told him he could come over, anyway.

You did, however, begin to tidy in a fury. It’s not that you were dirty, per-say, you just struggled with clutter, pens and boxes and random trinkets strewn over your coffee table. You tossed everything into a bin and hid it in your closet.

You made sure to close your bedroom door, too. God forbid he saw your desk chair, where a growing pile of “half worn but not dirty but you also didn’t want to fold them and put them away” clothes were draped.

Following the address you sent, Seonghwa arrived some half an hour later.

He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a very oversized T-shirt. The material hung off his broad shoulders, exposing a bit of skin when it fell to one side.

“Hey,” you greeted him. “You can sit in the living room, if you’d like. You need anything? Coffee, water, uh… I think I have juice.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he replied, eyes scanning your apartment.

It wasn’t very big, but it was still quite a bit larger than the dorms, though that wasn’t a difficult feat. You had a quaint living room that connected to a balcony, looking out over the city. It had an interesting charm, all mismatched furniture and overgrown plants.

He sat on the sofa, which was actually more of a loveseat. It was made of a dark green velvet fabric. Seonghwa raked his fingers over its surface. He had always loved the way velvet felt.

You took a seat next to him.

“Sooo,” you drew out the word, trailing off, “what do you wanna do?”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

You nodded.

That day, you learned a lot more about Seonghwa. You found out that he really liked romance dramas and that he collected legos. He wasn’t a picky eater. His favorite weather was snow and he thought he looked nice in a long coat.

He asked you about yourself as well, careful not to make the conversation one-sided.

“You mean to tell me you don’t watch dramas? Like, ever?”

“Not the kind you like.” You laughed. “They’re so predictable. Oh, look, a normal but beautiful girl. She meets a guy. He’s probably rich and a little cold. Then there’s a second guy who is really nice to her, but she’s meant to be with the cold guy. Turns out he has a heart of gold, right? They’re all the same.”

“They’re not all like that!” Seonghwa said defensively, though as he was trying to conjure up something that didn’t fit those tropes, he struggled.

“If you like them, that’s fine. Just not for me.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Not a romantic bone in your body, I see. No wonder you’re single.”

It was clearly a joke, but you felt just slightly offended, rolling your eyes. “I’m single by choice, thank you very much.”

He puckered his lips slightly and hummed, nodding his head. “Sure.” The way his voice raised in tone told you that he was not actually agreeing with you.

You realized very quickly that Seonghwa kind of had a mischievous side. He liked to push your buttons, and a grin would find his lips when his behavior made you roll your eyes in annoyance.

Surprisingly enough, you really enjoyed hanging out with him. Although you didn't have that much in common, you had a similar sense of humor and conversation came easily.

After a few hours, he said he needed to get back. He had promised Mingi that the two would eat dinner together.

You thought maybe you should say something along the lines of “thanks for coming” or “it was nice having you over,” but you didn’t. Instead, you led him to the door without saying a word.

Seonghwa slipped his shoes and jacket on.

He stared at you for a moment.

In the amount of time it would take you to blink, he pecked your lips with a kiss. Then, he was gone, out the door and leaving you to wonder if that had actually just happened.

“Crazy bastard,” you muttered.

Seonghwa didn’t know why he did that. It was a mere impulse that he acted on without considering the implications. You looked pretty, and he liked talking to you. He wanted to kiss you, so he did.

He had sort of expected you to call or text him that night and ask what the kiss was about, but you didn't.

He at least expected you to talk to him about it at work the next day. Maybe you preferred to have these discussions in person, right?

Yet in the morning when he sat his ass down in your stylist’s chair at KQ, all you said to him was “good morning” before you started to work mouse into his long hair, styling it.

You preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened. It was so quick that you were still kind of unsure if it actually had. As always, you’d rather leave things unsaid than make it awkward at work.

You were professional. Seonghwa was beginning to think he was not.

There had been staff in the past who were crushing on the members. There had never been a member crushing on a staff member. Perhaps Seonghwa would be the first, because you were exactly his type: someone who didn’t seem to be interested in him at all.

The way he never seemed to know what you were thinking excited him.

You had already noticed the way he was staring at you as you ran your fingers through his hair, nails raking softly against the tender skin of his scalp. You could almost feel him shiver beneath you.

You decided to ignore his all too obvious behavior. If he wanted to make a big deal out of it, you’d let him. Otherwise, work was just work, and you weren’t going to involve any personal affairs.

There was a certain stability to you and your emotions. Seonghwa was comforted by the fact that no matter what, he could expect you to show up to work the next day and act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

He waited around until you were done styling everyone.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, some part of him hoping that he was making you lose sleep. That would at least mean he took up space in your mind.

“Slept fine,” you said, not even looking at him as you organized eyeshadow palettes.

He frowned and left you there without saying anything else.

Things continued on as normal. Some days you would see Seonghwa at work. Others you wouldn’t. Occasionally he would text you to chat.

After a week, you still hadn't so much as mentioned that kiss.

That being said, you had a soft spot for Seonghwa now. He was sweet, funny, and just a little but weird in the best way possible. You’d consider him a friend or maybe something in between that you couldn’t acknowledge because you worked together.

You went to bed on a random Friday evening that was just like any other.

It was just past one in the morning when you got a call.

In fact, you slept with your phone on do not disturb mode. The only contacts you added to the exceptions were your parents and now Seonghwa.

Because even though you didn't even acknowledge it, you were still worried about Seonghwa and his mental state. On the off chance that he did try to reach out, you wanted to make sure you were available.

Seonghwa sat huddled in the corner of his room, trying not to make a noise so his sleeping roommates wouldn’t hear him. His hand was clasped over his mouth in an attempt to silence himself. He wasn't even expecting you to answer, but something pushed him to dial your number.

He was in a bad state, and he felt like he needed someone. He just wanted someone to pull him out of the depths, and you were the only person he could think of.

He was hesitant, but his decision was made easier by the fact that he assumed you wouldn't pick up. It was as if he wanted you to ignore him, to confirm that nobody gave a fuck and he was truly alone in all this.

You fumbled groggily to grab the ringing phone on your bed-side table.

“Hello?”

Seonghwa seemed to stop breathing for a second when he heard your voice. It was quiet for a few beats.

Then he said your name, barely intelligible. It came out of his throat mangled.

You sat up. “Seonghwa?”

“I- I-,” he stuttered, gasping for air.

“Breathe, Seonghwa. Don't speak. Just breathe,” you told him in a calm tone. “Can you do that for me?”

“O-Okay.”

You instructed him slowly, drawing breath with him. Just the sounds of you inhaling and exhaling helped to calm him a little bit. You continued like that for a few minutes, just trying to level him out.

When he finally felt calm enough to speak, he said, “I’m sorry.” He felt bad that he woke you up in the middle of the night.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you reminded him. “I told you you could reach out to me any time, and I meant that.”

He nodded from the other end of the line as if you could see him, only able to reply with a pathetic, “Thanks.”

“Why don’t you come over? I’d rather you not be alone.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he muttered in a low voice. “You ought to get back to sleep.”

“I’ll sleep better if I know you’re here safe with me.”

Safe. The word repeated in his head. “Do you think I’m a danger to myself?”

Tough question. You weren’t sure how to respond. Kind of? Maybe? Not really but sort of?

“I don’t know, to be honest. I’d rather be safe than sorry. If you’d prefer to stay home, that’s fine. If not, I can call you a cab.”

Hesitantly, he agreed to take a cab ride to your place. The streets were all but empty as he rode in the backseat of the little yellow vehicle. He cracked the window to suck in some of the fresh, dewy air that permeated the night.

He was surprised to find you standing outside waiting for him when he arrived. You stood in a long sleeve shirt and a pair of pajama pants, looking at your phone to pass time. Cool wind rustled the thin cotton material of your pants.

Your eyes peered up as you heard the car roll to a stop.

Seonghwa stepped out. Even in the dim lighting, you could see that his eyes were red and dark circles formed below them. He looked tired, and his posture was more of a slouch than its usual upright position.

“It’s cold out” was the first thing he said to you, placing a hand on your upper arm. “You should have put on a jacket.”

He instinctively went to shed his own jacket off to give to you.

“It’s fine, Seonghwa. I’m not cold,” you told him, but he draped it over your shoulders anyway.

He noticed that you spoke to him in a tone much softer than usual. It was delicate almost, and it made his chest ache for reasons he couldn’t fully explain.

The two of you went up to your apartment together.

Once inside, you took off the jacket he placed on you, placing it on a coat rack. You then asked him, “Do you want to talk or would you rather just get some rest?”

“I just want to rest,” he said, shuffling over to the sofa. “Do you have an extra pillow?”

“Why don’t you just sleep in my bed? This couch is way too small to sleep comfortably.”

Some part of him wanted to protest, but he didn’t have the energy. Instead, he allowed you to lead him to your bedroom, where he immediately collapsed on the bed. It was soft and coated in your scent, which filled his nostrils.

You tucked yourself in next to him. His back was turned to you, and you carefully inched closer to him. You rested your head next to his and wrapped your arm around him.

He shifted and rolled over to face you. In the darkness, his eyes seemed to search yours. For what he was searching you didn’t know.

His chest tightened, burning with an all too familiar sensation. He buried his face in the crook between where your neck and shoulder met and began to cry. It wasn’t a loud cry, but rather a soft shaking paired with the sensation of wet tears meeting your skin.

You didn’t say anything. You simply stroked the hairs at the nape of his neck and let him cry everything out. He held you in a tight grip, your bodies flushed together in a shared warmth.

After some time, his breathing seemed to slow down and even out, and you both fell into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

When Seonghwa woke up in the morning, he was alone in an unfamiliar bed. He had never been in your room before last night, and he barely even remembered going to your apartment because of his emotionally charged state the night before.

He glanced around. Your room was a mess by his standards, but your bed was cozy and smelled nice in a way that made him want to curl back up and keep sleeping. Knowing that he had practice in the afternoon forced him out of his cocoon of blankets.

He practically stumbled out, finding you sitting at the kitchen table, nibbling on a piece of toast.

You greeted each other good morning.

“Do you want anything to eat?” you asked as he took the seat across from you. He shook his head ‘no.’

You chewed your breakfast in silence for a few minutes, not yet brave enough to say what you wanted.

Finally, you told him, “I think we should talk about it.”

When you heard him breaking down in that hotel room, you thought maybe it was a fluke. It could have just been a really bad week. Now that time had passed and you found him yet again a shell of himself, it was a pattern.

“This happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking down at his lap. “Maybe once every week or two? Sometimes more. Sometimes less.”

“How long have you been struggling?”

“A while, I guess. It was really bad when we first debuted. Then I was a lot better for a while. It’s suddenly been really bad again in the last year or so.”

You nodded.

And he sighed. “When we debuted, I was having a hard time with my confidence, but then people started taking notice of us. They started noticing me. I was really moved by all the love I received. And maybe it sounds shallow, but I really did feel better after hearing how many people thought that I was talented and handsome. I felt valuable for the first time.

“But the longer time goes on, the more I feel like… I feel like it’s a burden to be loved. Other people like me, but I still don’t like myself. There’s just so much pressure trying to make myself good enough, and I just get so scared that if I make the wrong move, everyone’s going to realize I’m a fraud. I’m afraid I’m going to be left behind.

“I can’t tell anyone how I really feel because they all think I’m better now. I’m afraid to disappoint everyone. I’m an idol, for God’s sake. I’m supposed to be someone that our fans can look up to. But I don't think I’m worthy of that. I’m just pretending I am, and the pressure of it makes me want to break.”

Your finger traced the rim of your coffee cup idly, and you bit the inside of your cheek. “I can’t even begin to imagine how that feels.”

Most people couldn’t. He even found it hard to discuss these things with his members. For some reason, it seemed as if he was the only one who couldn’t take the pressure, and he felt like something must have been intrinsically wrong with him.

But you made him feel seen.

You didn’t have to understand. Something about the way you acknowledged his wounds but still treated him like a whole and worthwhile person made him feel seen for the first time since he had become an idol.

You took away just a little bit of his fear. You didn’t look at him with that same sense of pity that others did. You didn’t see a broken and insecure man. You just saw Seonghwa.

“Well, thank you for letting me stay last night. It made me feel a lot better.”

“Anytime, Seonghwa. Seriously. I know there’s nothing I can say to make the situation better, but I’m always available to just be next to you.”

“Promise you won’t get annoyed if I take you up on that too often?”

“Promise.”

You began spending perhaps a somewhat inappropriate amount of time with Seonghwa. It started out with him coming over once or twice a week, then quickly spiraled until he was spending nearly every night with you.

It was also not exactly normal the way he relied on you to stabilize his emotions.

When he slept at your side, there was peace. On the nights he tried to stay by himself, that same panic and doubt tried to claw its way out of him again.

You were toeing several lines with him. Coworker. Friend. Lover.

On paper, you hadn’t done anything overtly physical together. Other than that time he pecked you on the lips, there were no kisses. However, the way he held you at night wasn’t exactly casual.

You tried not to think too much into it.

It only seemed weird because you were friends of the opposite sex, right? If he was one of your female friends, no one would think anything of it. If you thought of it this way, you could avoid addressing the elephant in the room.

The boys were also noticing that Seonghwa was not home all that often anymore. He’d stay into the evenings, but when bedtime rolled around, he was gone.

“Hyung, are you dating someone these days?” San had asked over breakfast one morning.

“No,” Seonghwa said, and his tone rose in a way that made the younger feel like he wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Not dating. Just… seeing someone in a non-romantic way.”

San cocked his head, not really understanding what that meant. He didn’t press the issue, and the topic changed.

By that point, it had been a little over a month since Seonghwa started spending his nights with you. You had become quite close in that time period, sharing a lot of laughs and a few tears. Seonghwa didn’t cry as much anymore, though.

He still had the same worries, but they didn’t feel like the end of the world because he was able to talk through some of it with you. You didn’t try to offer him any advice. You just listened and sympathized, and that made him feel better. There was release.

The only thing that troubled you was the fact that it might be impacting your ability to do your job.

You tried not to show favoritism for Seonghwa, but it was hard. You wanted to give him all the best treatment. If the schedule was in the morning, you tried to make him last in line for makeup so he could sleep a little extra.

No one seemed to notice.

Or so you thought.

“Are you fucking Seonghwa?” Minhee asked one afternoon after the rest of the staff had already cleared out.

You nearly choked on your own spit.

“Excuse me?”

Minhee raised his eyebrows. “I see the way you guys look at each other. Either you’re fucking or you’re about to.”

You laughed nervously, nearly stuttering as you told him, “That’s ridiculous. I’ll admit, we hang out outside of work sometimes, but it’s completely platonic.”

“Sure it is,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m serious, Minhee! There’s nothing going on,” you stated more firmly this time, feeling the need to prove yourself to him.

You don’t know why it bothered you so much, his assumption. Maybe it was because he had seen what you were forcing yourself to turn a blind eye to.

You liked Seonghwa.

The mere notion of it made you want to rip your hair out because this was your job. Liking Seonghwa meant that you weren’t quite as professional as you liked to tell yourself you were. You’d crossed the line the moment you allowed him to stay at your apartment, but you’d been lying to yourself.

“What does he know,” you grumbled under your breath.

Either you’re fucking or you’re about to.

Minhee’s words played in your mind on loop.

Did you want to have sex with Seonghwa? He was handsome and you liked spending time with him, but did that inherently mean you wanted to bump uglies?

It would be a lie if you said there wasn’t some sort of tension between the two of you.

Sometimes, you’d wake up after a night with him, and he’d still be cuddling you, his morning wood poking you in the ass. You pretended not to notice it.

It was just a normal bodily function that happened to men in the mornings. It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t bring it up because you didn’t want him to feel embarrassed. Like many things in your life, if you simply didn’t speak about it, you could act as though it didn’t exist.

You wouldn't do anything with Seonghwa. You were sure he didn’t see you in that way, anyway. He was out of your league.

These are the things you told yourself so that you could stay normal.

That night, Seonghwa came over as always. Barring any unusual schedules that prevented him from coming, he slept at your apartment every single night. He’d even moved some of his clothes and toiletries over.

You didn’t always hang out, either. Sometimes he’d sit alone in the bedroom, while you were on the couch. It was a bit like having a roommate at times. You wondered if you should ask him to pay rent.

On this night, he was curled up on the bed playing games on his phone while you finished some work at your desk in the other room.

You appeared in the doorway of the shared bedroom. “Seonghwa.”

He looked up from his phone.

“I think we should be less friendly at work.”

“Oh? Why?” he asked.

“Minhee asked me if we were fucking today,” you stated matter-of-factly.

Seonghwa’s eyes blew wide, his jaw slack with shock. “And then what did you say?”

“I told him the truth. I said we were friends, and that’s all.”

“Is it really that noticeable that we’re close? I didn’t think we were acting out of the ordinary.” He seemed a little stressed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “And—fucking?—Christ.”

“I know. It’s stupid.” You had to laugh. “I was able to set him straight since he's a good friend of mine, but I wouldn’t want anyone to say anything. So let’s just be a little more distant at work, alright?”

“Alright.”

Easier said than done.

It was simple when you were at home. When Seonghwa left at night, his roommates didn't question him. When his hotel room was empty during an intentional schedule, that was strange.

You were in Japan this time, which you were grateful for. The flight was relatively short, and there wasn't a huge time difference, so you could avoid jet lag.

You quite liked Japan. It was comfortable and the food was good, so you usually looked forward to schedules there.

Something about the men there charmed you, too. Maybe it was the accents or their sense of style, but you always found them easier to flirt with than any of the men on European schedules.

This time, you had a new translator at the venue. He was young and tall with soft, kind-looking features. He told you his name was Mako.

You chatted with him during rehearsals, watching the boys warm up and practice their set for the show that night.

Some time during it, Seonghwa's eyes found you. He stared for just a moment, watching the tall man lean down and whisper in your ear. You laughed in response.

A bit of jealousy nipped him in the ass, but he pushed it down.

They had a fine performance that night. It wasn't particularly great, nor was it any lower in quality than usual. But Seonghwa would shoot daggers for eyes at the translator whenever he stood on stage and relayed their words to the fans.

It bothered him that the man seemed to be talking to you all night. It bothered him even more that the man was pretty good looking and about a head taller than himself, probably somewhere around Yunho's height.

“Would you like to grab dinner together?” Mako asked after the show had ended, and you agreed.

You took you to an izakaya, which was basked in warm lighting and filled with sounds of chatter. It was only a little past 7 at night, but you could tell drinks were already flowing between patrons. The atmosphere was relaxed yet upbeat.

You ordered your food and a few beers.

“So, you come to Japan often for work?” Mako asked.

“Sort of? We usually come at least a few times a year, but it depends. I think we've been here five or six times this year, more than usual. Or so I've heard. I haven't been with this company that long.”

“Oh, is that so? You must be pretty young then.”

“Not really. 24.”

He chuckled. “I'm 29. 30 in a couple months, actually.”

You didn't think much of the age difference. He was cute, and you were having a good time flirting and getting to know each other. You didn’t think anything was going to come of it, anyway. Long distance wasn’t exactly your cup of tea.

You chatted and drank with him for a few hours, until you were good and tipsy. Before you parted ways, he kissed you on the cheek and sent you off in a taxi.

Once you got back to the hotel, you walked to your room with a sway. You fumbled with your keycard, swiping yourself in. You were surprised to see one Park Seonghwa waiting for you. You forgot you had given him your extra key card.

“Seonghwa,” you cooed at him with a smile.

He stood up, coming to greet you at the door. He gripped you by the upper arms, steadying you.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, just a little tipsy. The translator from the show tonight—Mako—he took me out to an izakaya and I had a few beers with dinner.”

The corners of Seonghwa's lips turned down into a frown. “You should have let me know where you were going. What if he took advantage of you?”

“I'm a big girl. It's not like I haven't been on dates before.” You shook out of his grasp and moved toward the bathroom. “I'm gonna get washed up for bed.”

If he thought he was jealous before, he was practically livid now hearing you call it a date. Not defining your relationship was a lot easier before he saw you standing so close to another man.

You took a long, hot shower and did your skincare. By the time you were done, an hour had passed, and most of your tipsiness had worn off.

When you exited the steamy realm of the bathroom, you noticed the sour expression on Seonghwa's face. “What's that look for?”

“What look?” He asked, playing dumb.

“You look upset.”

“I'm not,” he lied.

You took his words at face value and crawled into bed next to him, dropping the subject. You flicked the lights off.

But he was upset. He couldn't stop comparing himself to the other man, wondering if there was something about him that wasn't quite good enough. You'd never agreed to any sort of exclusivity, so why had Seonghwa assumed you'd be his?

It bothered him to think that he could lose you.

After a while, Seonghwa suddenly asked, “Did you kiss him?”

“Huh?” It took a moment to process his words. “He kissed me on the cheek, but that's all.”

The tension in Seonghwa's shoulders seemed to relieve just a bit. He inched closer to you. “Are you going to go out with him again?”

“I don't know.”

It was silent for a few minutes. You stared out into the darkness of the room, wondering what Seonghwa was thinking.

You felt his hand reach up under your chin, positioning your face toward him. You could barely make him out besides the hint of light that glinted off his eyes that bore into you.

He leaned in and kissed you. It was chaste, yet deep and firm. There was a conviction to the way he pressed his lips to yours, and it completely took your breath away.

“Please don't see other men again.”

You didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to be said, because he wasn't asking you, he was telling you. A shiver ran down your spine.

He turned away from you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you replied in a voice much smaller than usual.

It was hard to look at him in the morning after that. His gaze felt hot, and you wanted to avoid the burn. There was no doubt that someone was going on between you and Seonghwa now, but you were afraid to say it.

What did that kiss mean? Should I ask him about it? Should I just assume we're together? If he doesn't want me seeing other men, that kind of means we're together, right?

And if you thought his eyes on you were hot, his touch was like an iron that had just been pulled from the coals, searing into your skin. You were branded with him.

You jumped away from him at the slightest contact.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No.”

You just didn't want this to be real. It's not to say that you didn't like him, because you did, but you didn't like what a relationship with him meant. You didn't like the idea of doing something wrong.

You weren't ready to end whatever it was you were doing with him, yet you also wanted to hold on to your job and your illusion of professionalism.

You wondered if maybe, just maybe, you didn't let him touch you again, then you could still consider it something casual. If you just put distance between you as you slept and barred his lips from touching yours, you could continue to live in blissful ignorance.

It turned out that, no, you couldn't.

You were a nervous mess as you did your job that day. You could barely focus, and every time someone spoke to you, dread brewed in the pit of your stomach for a moment.

It was as if you were expecting to be found out at any moment.

It had only been a day, but you couldn't take it. You were at your wits end already. By the time night fell, you were on your way to Seonghwa's room because you needed to set things straight.

You knocked loudly on his door.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a smile.

“We need to talk.”

His smile faltered because that phrase usually never meant anything good. He closed the door behind you and asked, “What's wrong?”

Everything felt wrong. You were upset at yourself for doing what you promised you wouldn't. You were on edge. Any time one of your bosses spoke to you, anxiety swallowed you whole, waiting to be called out for your wrong doings.

You were afraid to lose your job in such an embarrassing way.

“We can't keep doing this.”

He cocked his head at you and let out a soft laugh. “What do you mean?”

“Whatever this is!” you cried out. “You can't kiss me like that and then expect me to pretend everything is normal.”

He had never seen you this frazzled before. You were usually eerily calm, even seemingly emotionless at times. At that moment, he saw you losing your cool for the first time.

“Let's just talk, okay?” he said, trying to calm you a little.

You reluctantly nodded, and the two of you took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Seonghwa,” you muttered, head low, “I could lose my job if anyone finds out.”

“Nobody needs to find out. And even if they did, I'd vouch for you. I'd say all of this is my doing because it was.”

Not once had you made a move on Seonghwa. The kiss you shared was one he initiated without so much as asking. Truly, it would be hard to place any of the blame on you.

You rubbed your hands over your face and sighed. “I don't know, Seonghwa. I just think it would be better if we didn't.”

“Listen, I know I like you a lot more than you like me.” He paused. “Is it selfish of me to ask you to try?”

“Do you even like me, though? Or do you just like the comfort I bring you? I enjoy spending time with you. That's the truth. But I also don't want to lose my job because you want to use me as a substitute for the fact that you won't get therapy.”

He pursed his lips and looked away from you, expression soured. Sometimes, your truthfulness felt refreshing. At others, it was harsh like the crack of a whip.

“I do like you. If you want me to prove that to you, then I will. I'll stop coming over at night. I won't text you when I'm upset. But I'm still going to like you just the same.”

He knew was a little pathetic, practically begging you to give him a shot, but that's how Seonghwa was. It wasn't easy for him to truly develop feelings for someone, but once he did, it was hard to make him let go.

He liked you for what you were. You liked the way you smile and he liked the smell of your skin. He liked that you never bullshitted with him and that you were always true to yourself. He didn't just want you to comfort him when he was breaking. He wanted to be the only person you could go to when you were in need.

“We'll just take some time apart and see what happens, okay?” you said.

He reluctantly nodded in response. “Can I kiss you once more? Just in case it's the last time.”

You hesitated, but in a quiet voice, you told him, “Okay.”

He leaned over and cupped your face, bringing his lips to yours. It was a little bit softer than the last time he had kissed you, less like a kiss of possession and more one of tenderness. It made your heart rate quicken, and you leaned into him.

He sure didn't make you feel like he was using you. The affection of his touch felt genuine, like something that would be hard to fake. At the same time, you always erred on the side of caution.

You didn’t want it to stop, but you eventually knew you had to pull away.

He seemed to have the same thought—that it had ended too soon.

“I'll be going then,” you stated, slowly standing up.

He nodded and bid you goodbye, looking just a little bit sad but trying to conceal it.

You could still taste him on your lips as you wandered through the hallways of the hotel, not quite ready to go back to your room and be alone again. He affected you just a tad much for your liking.

You continued on with work as usual in the following days. The international schedule ended, and you were back home.

The distance between you and Seonghwa provided you with a sense of comfort. You felt in control again. You didn't have to worry about randomly being fired for inappropriate conduct.

But you also felt just a little empty without him. He left a hollow in your chest.

You'd seen him at work. You'd texted him here and there. The two of you had even shared a meal together in the week since you decided to take more space. Yet the nights felt awfully cold without his embrace.

You thought you'd find some clarity without him clouding your mind. The only thing that became clear is that even if he decided he didn't actually like you, you'd still like him.

There was no going back for you.

You couldn't change the way your pulse raced when he was near you. You were powerless to the charms of his deep yet clear voice when he spoke, hanging on his every word.

You seemed to notice him all the more, actually, the longer time went on. Suddenly every attractive feature jumped out. You noticed the way his jaw squared and his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat when he drank. You were acutely aware of the veins in his hands and arms on the days he went sleeveless.

After the first week, another passed.

You started becoming frazzled.

You would bite your lip when you smelled his cologne. You had to fight the urge to cover his plush lips with your own when you were applying products to them. When he would run off stage, sweat glistening the exposed parts of his chest in a deep v-cut top, you stared without an ounce of shame.

In contrast to your bubbling desire, he seemed fine.

Maybe he was realizing he didn't actually like you. Just the thought of that made you want to fall to your knees in despair, but you had asked for this.

Seonghwa was beautiful, kind, and totally out of your league, yet you had practically told him not to like you. It was laughable how stupid you were.

On a night when you found yourself missing him a little extra, you tuned in to one of his live streams just so you could hear his voice.

He was talking idly to the fans about some recent contents they had filmed. His voice was softer than usual. He spoke in an especially calm tone, a kind of idle and aimless stream of consciousness.

He was cute.

You watched the livestream for a little bit longer before turning it off and abandoning your phone on the bedside table. A digital image of him didn't compare to the real thing. Not even close.

You had to think long and hard about what it actually was that you wanted, but any way you cut it, you wanted Seonghwa. You wanted him just a little bit more than anything else, no matter how much you told yourself it was a bad idea.

You spent a little longer stewing in your own thoughts before you couldn't take it anymore. You had to call him.

The phone rang for a few beats before he picked up.

“Hello?”

His voice sounded just that much more beautiful when it was directed at you. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Hi.”

There was an awkward silence. You hadn't come in with a game plan. In fact, you were kind of hoping he'd take the lead like he always had before.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

You could only squeak out, “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” he said.

He honestly felt just a little empty without you, too. You still talked, but his nights always felt like they were missing something. He really didn't want to pressure you, though. He had been waiting for you to come to him, and now you finally were.

You couldn’t stand to beat around the bush. You asked him directly, “Do you still like me?”

“I do.” You couldn’t see it, but he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

You nodded. “Cool, cool…”

It went silent again.

“Is that all you wanted?” he asked, breaking the pause.

“Um, well,” you hummed, “I actually wanted to ask if you’d come over.”

Finally, he let out a laugh. You were awfully endearing when you sounded so nervous. He didn’t mind that he made all of the first moves, but it was oh so satisfying to have the tables turn for just a second.

“I’ll be over in about a half an hour, alright?”

You said that was fine and hung up the phone, breathing out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t moved on, which was all you could ask for.

As he said, he arrived some thirty minutes later. He stood in your doorway, looking as pretty as ever. He carried a bag with some of his personal items, a shiny leather YSL that probably cost three months of your salary if not more. He set it down on the bench in your entryway.

For a second, you were almost reminded of why you shouldn’t pursue him, because you didn’t have money or looks or much of anything at all to offer him. Would he realize that you didn’t sooner rather than later?

You tried to put your doubts away, tucking them into the back of your brain. You took him in. He was just as stunning as usual, even dressed in his pajamas. He wore a really oversized long sleeve shirt and plaid cotton pants with a fluffy jacket overtop. Although he was one of the members that liked more elaborate stage outfits, you found that he preferred comfort to style in his off time.

He looked good, and he smelled good. You were already being affected by him, which he picked up on in an instant.

With a hand on the small of your back, he questioned, “Why do you look so nervous around me all of a sudden?”

Because you had realized that you were painfully attracted to him. You wanted to let him do unspeakable things to you. You refused to ever admit that out loud, so you lied and said, “I’m not.”

He didn’t really believe you, but he didn’t press it. Instead he hummed, “So?”

“So?” you repeated.

“So is this your way of saying you want to be with me?”

He stepped closer to you, and you swallowed hard. “Well, I’m open to the idea…” You trailed off. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I’m positive,” he said with certainty.

He had already made up his mind. He wasn’t the type to waver so easily. Once Seonghwa decided he wanted something or someone, to stop his pursuit was no simple feat.

“If you’re still worried about work, I can probably help find you a position at a different company.”

You mulled it over. “I don’t know. I really like the rest of the staff at KQ. I’d miss the other members too if I left.”

“I don’t mean to sound full of myself,” he began after clearing his throat, “but Ateez accounts for, well, all of the revenue KQ makes. We’re not some nobody rookie group anymore. We have quite a bit of pull at the company, so you don’t have to worry about being fired.”

His words put you at ease yet unsettled you at the same time. Every reminder of how successful and influential he was made you feel more and more like a nobody.

“That’s part of it, but it’s not the only thing.” He looked at you curiously as you continued, “You’re a little bit out of my league, don’t you think? I’m not… ” Not pretty, not rich, not famous. “like you.”

You refused to look at him as you said that, and he noticed just how small you seemed. You were usually the one being strong for him, but he’d never stopped to think that you could be harboring your own self doubt.

It was funny the way you were both deeply insecure but expressed it so differently. While Seonghwa curbed his insecurity by simply hiding it from the people he cared about, you dealt with yours by never getting too close to others at all.

“Why would you think that?” he asked softly, brows furrowed with concern.

“I mean, our lifestyles are pretty different, aren’t they? When you sit in first class, I’m 10 rows behind in economy. While you’re carrying a $3,000 bag, I’m eating cup noodles so I can make rent. You’re so stunning that people practically fall at your feet, and I’ve never turned a head in my life. If I’m being honest, I don’t really understand what you see in me.”

“I’m kind of offended that you think I care about any of that.” He half scoffs and half laughs. “The bag was a gift. The first class tickets are arranged by the company. I mean, have you seen the things I buy myself? They’re not exactly luxurious.”

In fact, the only thing Seonghwa ever spent much on at all were gifts for others. What money he did earn was mostly tucked away in a savings account because he was anticipating that some day this would all come to an end and he wouldn’t have much for other job prospects.

“And I find you very beautiful, by the way.” He leaned in a little closer to you. “You turn my head. Is that not enough?”

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you in until your bodies were flush together. He leaned in to kiss you, which you gladly reciprocated.

You seemed to mesh together so perfectly, as if you were made for one another. Your fingers curled around his bicep, digging into the firm muscle. You nipped at his bottom lip, needy with desire, and he grunted in response.

He pulled away and chuckled, “You kiss me like you want me real bad.”

You scoffed and punched him softly in the shoulder. You did want him really bad, but it was embarrassing to hear those words. You’d much rather let your actions do the talking.

“I guess I just missed you is all.”

“Well, I promise you’ll never have to miss me again.”

He grinned and leaned in for another kiss. They were addictive and you felt drunk on his lips, like you'd never need anything else. You could sustain yourself on his love alone.

And for the first time in a long time, he had that sense that everything was going to be perfectly alright.