Chapter Text
Lee Sang-hyeok wasn’t far away, sitting upright with his T1 teammates, properly participating in the program recording.
When answering questions, his tone was steady. His gaze shifted between the host and the cameras, composed and flawless.
It should have been reassuring.
And yet Han Wang-ho couldn’t shake the feeling that a small part of the other’s attention had been deliberately, gently reserved for him.
Not the kind that cameras would catch. There were no frequent glances, no obvious bias.
Just certain details—too familiar, too personal. Whenever it was his turn to speak, the other’s shoulders would lean forward ever so slightly, then quickly return to normal.
It was all a little too measured.
Which only made Han Wang-ho more certain—this wasn’t a coincidence.
He flexed his fingers, forcing his attention back to the show itself. In a setting like this, he didn’t want anyone reading anything extra into them.
Everything about Sang-hyeok hyung in this scene was already too visible. Any closeness that could be misinterpreted would be magnified, discussed, labeled with things it didn’t need.
So he chose to step back, letting them appear like nothing more than ordinary teammates. It was the safest way he could think of.
And yet, it was as if Lee Sang-hyeok hadn’t noticed his effort at all.
Or perhaps he had—and simply didn’t intend to cooperate.
Whenever Han Wang-ho finished speaking, he would always hear a quiet “mm” from the other.
The moment he lowered his head, that gaze would land on him just in time. Even in the brief gaps when the camera cut away, that gaze would brush lightly across his face—as if checking, before casually moving on.
Not clingy. Not crossing any lines.
Something that could even be explained away as basic courtesy toward a rival.
And yet, its presence was overwhelming.
Han Wang-ho let out a quiet sigh in his heart.
He was trying to protect—
protect this relationship, and protect Lee Sang-hyeok.
But this person… why did he always dismantle his defenses like this, piece by piece?
Not with anything loud or obvious, but with a quiet, certain gentleness that belonged only to him.
He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry.
He could only think, silently: Sang-hyeok hyung, with so many cameras around… aren’t you afraid people will notice at all?
And Lee Sang-hyeok just sat there, expression calm, the faintest curve at the corner of his lips—like an innocent, big-faced cat.
That was the most troublesome part of all.
End