Chapter Text
I got my eye on you.
Lights streaming through the practice room’s glass walls, casting long, cold rectangles of light on the polished floor. Jake stood slightly apart from the other trainees, his heart hammering a nervous rhythm against his ribs.
He was new, everything felt too big, too loud, and he was desperately trying to remember the complex dance sequence from the video.
The music swelled for the chorus, and the room erupted into synchronized movement. Or rather, most of the room did. Jake’s limbs just seemed to have a mind of their own, stumbling over the quick transition. He muttered a quiet sorry under his breath, frustration coloring his cheeks a faint pink.
A soft chuckle sounded next to him. Jake flinched a little, expecting a tease. Instead, a voice, smooth and kind, cut through his embarrassment.
“Hey, it’s okay. That part’s tricky. You gotta pivot on your left foot first, see?”
Jake turned his face and looked up.
And there he was.
Lee Heeseung.
He’d seen him before, of course.
Everyone knew Heeseung, the talented one, the one who commanded everyone’s attention with his presence, the one who seemed to carry the light in his smile, the one with beautiful doe eyes.
But up close, he was... more. On that beautifully handsome face, his eyes curved into friendly crescents, his focus entirely on Jake, as if nothing else in the room mattered in that moment.
But how—what made him bring up this illusion? Jake severely criticized himself.
And “Oh,” was all Jake could manage to say before he realized he was staring with no words and a dumb face, his brain short-circuiting. “Uh. Left foot. Right.”
Then Heeseung didn’t just tell him; he showed him.
He executed the move slowly, his body moving with an innate grace that made the complex step look effortless. “Like this. Mind the rhythm. Don’t think too hard. Just let your body feel the count.”
Jake tried again, mimicking Heeseung’s motion. This time, his feet cooperated. A small, genuine smile broke out on his face. “I did it!”
Heeseung’s smile widened, revealing a bit of his white teeth. A sight so bright it made Jake’s breath catch.
“See? You’ve got it.” He gave Jake an encouraging pat on the shoulder. The touch was brief, friendly, but it sent a jolt straight through Jake’s thin practice shirt. “I’m Heeseung, by the way.”
“I know,” Jake blurted out, then immediately stuttered. “I mean… I’m Jake.” He cleared his throat, “Thank you for helping me. I’m kind of new, so... That really helps.”
Heeseung just laughed, a light, airy sound that melted away Jake’s embarrassment. “Nice to meet you, Jake. Don’t worry about being new. We were all new once. You’ll catch up in no time.”
Some called for a short break, and the rigid posture of the room dissolved. Trainees slumped against mirrors, reached for water bottles, chatted in low tones.
Jake remained rooted to his spot, watching as Heeseung was immediately swarmed by a couple of other guys. Heeseung greeted them all with the same easy smile, his warmth seemingly limitless.
Jake found his water bottle and took a long sip, his eyes unconsciously tracking Heeseung’s movements. He watched the way Heeseung threw his head back when he laughed at something someone said, the way he absentmindedly pushed his hair off his forehead, the way he listened, really listened, when others spoke, his gaze attentive and kind.
He’s just… really nice, Jake thought to himself. He’s nice to everyone. It’s just his personality.
Yet, that small interaction replayed in his mind on a loop: the patient guidance, the warm chuckle, the direct eye contact that made Jake feel, for just a second, like he was the only person in the world. A pretty illusion.
The break ended too soon. As they went back to practice, Jake found himself positioned behind Heeseung, with only a few trainees in between.
Jake tried to focus on the mirror, on correcting his own form, but his eyes kept drifting.
He couldn’t help but notice the precise line of Heeseung’s shoulders, the controlled power in his movements, the sheer dedication etched into his beautiful face even as sweat beaded on his temple.
During a particularly strenuous series of jumps, Jake misjudged his landing, his ankle twisting uncomfortably. He let out a sharp gasp from the pain, stumbling to regain his balance.
Heeseung, standing in front of him, turned around immediately, his dance routine stopped. And some trainees around came up, worrying and wanting to check if Jake was fine.
“You okay?” Heeseung asked, his brow furrowed in concern. He was at Jake’s side in two quick strides, his hand hovering near Jake’s elbow, ready to offer support but not imposing it.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jake said, his face heating up again, for unwillingly disturbing others. “Just landed wrong. It’s nothing.” He made a deep breath, then tried to test his weight on the foot, slowly with Heeseung’s gentle support.
He was relieved when it held and smiled widely—with a little guilt. “See? Still working. No need to worry!”
Heeseung didn’t look entirely convinced. He still furrowed, looked around, and comforted several trainees beside them to go back to practice.
Then he leaned down, eyes searching Jake’s face. “You sure? Don’t push it if it hurts. We can just stop and I can go call the medic from the side door. It won’t bother others.”
“Oh,” Jake blinked again. Heeseung’s thoughtful observation and the genuine worry in his voice did something strange to Jake’s stomach.
“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Jake looked up to meet Heeseung’s doe eyes, offering a more confident smile this time. “Really. Thank you, Heeseung hyung.”
The honorific slipped out naturally. Heeseung’s expression softened, and he gave a nod. “Alright. But take it easy on that side for the rest of practice, okay?”
He didn’t walk away immediately, staying close for a beat longer than necessary, as if making doubly sure Jake was steady.
Practice continued. The incident was minor, but it cemented something in Jake’s mind.
Heeseung’s kindness wasn’t just a performance; it was intrinsic. It was in the way he noticed a struggling newcomer, the way he prioritized someone else’s well-being over the practice routine.
While going on practice, Jake felt a surge of something warm and expansive in his chest. It was admiration, pure and simple. Heeseung was everything he aspired to be: skilled, humble, and genuinely kind.
When the final notes of the song faded and the practice time was over, a collective sigh of relief went through the room. Everyone began moving, tired but satisfied.
Jake was wiping his face with a towel when Heeseung approached him again. “Hey, Jake. A few of us are going to grab some snacks. You wanna be with us?”
The invitation was so unexpected that Jake just blinked for a second.
Heeseung’s just being nice again, Jake thought, the logical part of his brain supplied. He probably invited everyone.
But the from nowhere hopeful, eager part of him shouted the logical part down. “Snacks?” He repeated, trying to sound casual. “Uh, yeah. Sure. That sounds very good.”
“Great,” Heeseung said, that beautiful sunshine smile back in full force. And Jake suddenly felt dizzy. Is it because I need to eat?
“We usually sit around that corner.” Heeseung slung his bag over his shoulder and gestured direction with his lifted chin, exposing an elegant line of his jaw. “Come on, I want to introduce some nice guys to you if that’s okay? Good? Good! Bet you’ll get along!”
As they walked out of the practice room, cool air hitting their sweaty skin, Jake fell into step beside Heeseung.
He listened as Heeseung easily talked about the best snack items, asking Jake about his favorite Korean foods so far.
Jake found that he was smiling so wide that his face hurt. Well, he didn’t care. His answers were a bit stilted, his mind still reeling from the whirlwind of the day: the intense practice, the frustration, the fall, and now, walking and talking with Lee Heeseung like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He sneaked a glance at Heeseung’s profile, illuminated by the lights. This guy was just... cool. And he was so good-looking. And he was being so nice.
A feeling of intense, grateful admiration settled deep in Jake’s little bones. This was just the beginning, he knew. He had a long way to go to catch up to everyone. But having someone like Heeseung nearby, shining so brightly, made the daunting path ahead seem a little less intimidating, and a whole lot more exciting.
He didn’t know it then, standing there on the sidewalk in i-land, but that simple feeling of admiration would quietly, inexorably, shift into something else.
Something warmer, something fonder, something that would soon make his heart beat fast for reasons that had nothing to do with dance practice.
For now, though, he was just Jake, a new trainee, going to grab some food and meet some new friends with his surprisingly cool and kind and beautifully handsome sunbae. And that was more than enough.
Months bled together in a whirlwind of relentless practice, vocal lessons, and evaluations. The initial nervousness Jake felt had evolved into a determined focus, but one constant remained: his unwavering attention to Lee Heeseung.
Heeseung was no longer just the talented sunbae who had been kind to him once. He was the benchmark, the person Jake measured himself against. Heeseung’s easy grace and cute shyness in front of the cameras during their mock interviews, his ability to pick up choreography faster than anyone else, his surprisingly stable vocals even after a full hour of intense dance practice—it all fueled Jake’s admiration, stoking it into something brighter and more consuming.
Their interactions became more frequent, woven into the fabric of their daily lives. They were often paired together for vocal harmonies, their voices blending in a way that made others nod in approval. They shared meals, sometimes with the other trainees, sometimes just the two of them, squeezed into a corner table.
It was during these small moments that Jake’s feelings began to shift.
It was no longer just admiration for Heeseung’s abilities. It was the way Heeseung would sneak an extra piece of beef onto Jake’s tray when he thought no one was looking. It was the way he’d patiently run through a dance sequence with Jake for the tenth time, his patience never seeming to wear thin. It was the low, encouraging “You’ve got this, Jake-ah,” whispered before a high-pressure evaluation, that seemed to steady Jake’s nerves more than anything else.
Jake found himself always seeking out Heeseung’s smile at the end of a long day, storing it away like a secret comfort. He noticed the subtle tiredness around Heeseung’s eyes after a particularly grueling day, and felt a strange urge to... make it better. To do something, anything, to ease his burden.
One evening, after everyone else had left the practice room, Jake found Heeseung still there, practicing a single move over and over, his shirt soaked with sweat, his expression one of deep frustration.
Jake stood silently by the door for a moment, watching. He noticed Heeseung’s bangs, glistening with sweat and stuck to his forehead.
Heeseung was just like this, Jake thought. Without a word, he walked over to the sound system and restarted the song from the beginning.
Heeseung looked up, surprised. Jake can told from his eyes, a little wider than usual.
“Let’s do it together,” Jake said simply. He looked into Heeseung’s eyes, taking his position beside him. “Maybe you’re thinking too hard.”
Heeseung stared at him for seconds, then a slow, enlightened, more-than-pretty smile spread across his face. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”
They practiced until the move was seamless, until both of them were breathing heavily but smiling. In that moment, bathed in the harsh lights, Jake felt a connection so profound it stole his breath more than the practice.
It wasn’t just about dance. It was about shared struggle, mutual respect, and something else, something warmer and more terrifying that curled deep in his chest.
He went to bed that night with a heart so full it felt like it might burst. That was the night the simple admiration finally, irrevocably, tipped into something else.
Something that felt like a powerful pull towards something—an attraction. But was naming it like too strong a word? Too weighty? Jake couldn't know yet.
But that was also the night the quiet ache of longing began, knowing that Heeseung’s kindness was a light that shone on everyone, and fearing that his own feelings were just a shadow in its broad, generous glow.
I just can’t look away.
The dorm was quiet, for once. The only sounds were the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled noise of evening traffic from the street below.
Jake slumped onto the couch, his body aching with a familiar, deep-seated fatigue. Today had been a long one: music show recording, a quick variety podcast filming, and now, finally, a few precious hours of rest before tomorrow’s schedule began all over again.
Someone emerged from the kitchen, holding two glasses of water.
And Jake knew it’s Heeseung. He moved with a quiet tiredness that mirrored Jake’s own, but he still offered a small, soft smile as he handed one glass to Jake. “Here. You looked like you needed this.”
“Thanks, hyung,” Jake said, his voice a little rough. His fingers brushed against Heeseung’s as he took the glass, and even that simple, accidental contact sent a familiar, unwelcome jolt through him. He took a quick sip to hide his reaction.
It had been months since their debut.
The initial whirlwind of excitement and nervous energy had settled into a grueling, non-stop routine. Through it all, Jake’s feelings had... changed.
That pure admiration he’d felt in i-land had changed, not vanished, of course, but grown, mutated, deepened into something made his stomach flutter whenever Heeseung was near.
And Heeseung hadn’t changed. He was still the same kind, attentive, and warm person he’d always been. He brought Jake water when he was tired. He remembered Jake’s favorite snacks and sometimes surprised him with them after a long day. He listened intently when Jake talked about missing Australia, his eyes soft with understanding. He was a perfect hyung. A perfect friend.
And that was the problem. Heeseung’s warmth was a universal constant. He was just as kind to the other members, to the staff, to literally everyone.
Jake had watched it for a long time, cataloging every smile, every thoughtful gesture, every word of encouragement Heeseung distributed so freely to the world.
He’d long since concluded that his own speical growing, aching fondness was a one-way street.
“You’re zoning out,” Heeseung observed, settling onto the couch beside him, not too close, but not far away either. A perfectly hyung-like distance. “Long day got your brain melted?”
Jake forced a chuckle, turning his head to look at Heeseung.
The sight of him, relaxed and a little rumpled in his home clothes, still did things to Jake’s heart. Like how could he just be this perfect every second? “Something like that. My brain is just static right now.”
Heeseung nodded sympathetically, his soft smile dropped a little. “I know the feeling. That podcast host’s questions were something else, huh?” He mimed a brain exploding gesture. “I thought I was going to short-circuit when he asked about our childhood fears.”
Jake laughed, a real one this time. “Right? I panicked and started talking about my fear of the needles.” He buried his face in his hands, groaning. “That’s going to be my legacy now. Jake, the needle-phobe.”
Heeseung’s laughter was warm and full, filling the quiet space of the dorm. It was Jake’s favorite sound.
“It was cute,” Heeseung said, his laughter subsiding into a fond smile. “Our fans will love it. They like it when we’re… you know. Real.”
Real, Jake smiled at him and thought. If only I could be real about this.
And it’s the time when Jungwon, their young leader, padded into the living room, yawning. “What’s the topic?” He mumbled, heading straight for the kitchen.
“Jake’s fear of needles,” Heeseung shrugged and supplied easily, still smiling.
Jake threw a couch cushion at him, which Heeseung caught with a laugh.
It was easy. It was comfortable. This was their normal. Jake loved this normal, he truly did. He just wished his heart would stop trying to read more into their every smile, every laugh, every shared glance.
Later that night, as they were all getting ready to sleep, Heeseung paused by Jake’s bedroom door.
“Hey, Jake, for the choreography tomorrow, the part after the second chorus,” Heeseung began, mimicking the arm movement. “You keep tensing your shoulder. Just try to keep it loose, yeah? It’ll look smoother and hurt less.”
Jake blinked, surprised. He hadn’t mentioned his shoulder was sore. “How did you...?”
Heeseung just shrugged again, casually, a simple, effortless and yet don’t- know- why charming movement. “I just noticed. Get some sleep, Jake-ah.” He gave the doorframe a gentle tap with his knuckles and turned to leave.
Jake stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorway.
He just noticed. Of course he did. Heeseung noticed everything about everyone. It was just who he was. It didn’t mean anything.
But it couldn’t stop or lessen any joy or jolt from the deepest of his heart. Jake just couldn’t help it. Well, what’s wrong about making himself happy with illusions?
He crawled into bed, the ache in his shoulder a little less pronounced than the one in his chest. He replayed the night in his head: the shared water, the laughter on the couch, the quiet advice at the door.
Each moment was a treasure and a torture. He was so incredibly lucky to have Heeseung’s kindness directed at him so consistently. He knew that. He also knew he was greedy for wanting it to be something it wasn’t, something it would never be.
He hated to be greedy. But the process of the logic part of his brain depended on his heart. And it didn’t work well when it came to Heeseung.
He whined into his pillow, the sound swallowed by the darkness.
This was his life now. He was Jake of ENHYPEN, and he was hopelessly, secretly in love with his bandmate and best friend, Lee Heeseung. And that was a truth he would just have to learn to live with.
Outside his door, Heeseung paused for a second, listening to the quiet sigh from Jake’s room. A small, almost imperceptible frown touched him before he shook his head and continued to his room, his own thoughts a private, guarded thing.