Chapter 21 #2
His eyes flicked to me for just a fraction of a second — so fast the camera wouldn't catch it, so fast anyone watching wouldn't notice — and something real flickered beneath the performance.
My heart stuttered.
The comments exploded with speculation. He's glowing! Did something good happen? Is it a girl? HWAN HAS A SECRET! The theories scrolled by faster than I could read them.
"A secret?" Hwan laughed, waving his hand dismissively with a gesture that was perfectly casual even as I caught the slight tension in his wrist. "No, no, no secret. I'm just happy because I get to talk to all of you! Isn't that enough?"
The chat seemed to accept this, mostly, though a few comments persisted. You look different. Softer. Something's changed.
I wondered if they could sense it somehow — that shift in his energy, that new thread of contentment running beneath the performance. Could fifty thousand strangers see what one afternoon with me had apparently done to him?
The thought was terrifying. And a little thrilling.
The V-Live continued for another thirty minutes.
Hwan sang a bit of an unreleased song (the chat lost its collective mind).
He showed off a new pair of shoes someone had sent him.
He talked about the upcoming comeback with carefully vague enthusiasm, teasing details without revealing anything the company hadn't approved.
Through it all, I watched.
Not the performance — him. The subtle shifts in his expression when he thought the camera wouldn't catch them.
The way he kept touching his wrist, right where he'd scent-marked me, like he could still feel me there.
The moments when his real smile broke through the manufactured one, brief flashes of genuine warmth that made my chest ache.
"Okay, okay, I have to go!" He was winding down now, waving at the camera with both hands, his energy still impossibly bright even after thirty minutes of performance. "But I'll be back soon, I promise! Love you, my Soul!! Take care of yourselves! Eat well! Sleep lots! Bye bye bye!"
He held the smile until the broadcast ended, until the viewer count dropped to zero, until the screen confirmed the live was over.
Then his shoulders dropped. The transformation reversed itself — the performance face melting away, the tension draining from his posture, the megawatt smile fading into something smaller and more real.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a long breath.
"God, that's exhausting." He muttered it mostly to himself, apparently forgetting I was there, his voice rough and stripped of its earlier sparkle as he slumped back in his chair.
"You're really good at it." I said it quietly, and watched him startle, his head snapping toward me like he'd genuinely forgotten I was in the room.
"Oh. Right. You're still..." He turned to face me fully, something uncertain in his expression as he ran a hand through his hair, messing up the careful styling. "Sorry. That was probably weird for you. Watching me do the... the whole thing."
I pushed off from the wall and crossed the room to stand in front of him. Up close, I could see the faint shadows under his eyes that the ring light had hidden. The slight pallor beneath the carefully applied glow.
"Can I tell you something?" I kept my voice gentle, not wanting to spook him now that the performance mask was fully off. He nodded, wariness flickering in his gaze as he watched me approach, his body tensing slightly like he was bracing for criticism.
"I like this version better." I reached out and touched his cheek — the first time I'd initiated contact like this, and I felt his breath catch, saw his eyes widen slightly at the touch. "The real one. After the camera's off."
For a long moment, he didn't speak. Just looked at me with those dark eyes that held flecks of amber, something raw and vulnerable swimming in their depths.
"Most people prefer the performance." His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper, cracking slightly on the last word. "It's shinier. More fun. This version is just... tired. And worried. And kind of a mess."
"This version is real." I let my thumb trace his cheekbone, the same gesture he'd done to me in the practice room, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. "The other one is impressive, but it's not you. Not really."
His eyes went glassy. He blinked rapidly, and I watched him fight for composure, his jaw tightening with the effort to hold himself together.
"Keira..." He said my name like it hurt, like the single word was being pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, raw and aching. "You can't just say things like that."
"Why not?" I held his gaze, refusing to look away from whatever I might find there.
"Because I'll start believing them." He turned his face into my palm, pressing a kiss to the center of it, his lips warm and soft against my skin as his eyes fluttered closed. "Because I'll start thinking you actually mean it."
"I do mean it." I stepped closer, close enough that I could smell his scent mixing with the traces of mine on his wrist, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body.
"The sunshine thing you do — it's incredible.
I watched fifty thousand people fall in love with it in real time.
But the person underneath... the one who's tired and worried and kind of a mess?
That's the one I'm getting to know. That's the one I. .."
I trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence. That's the one I like? That's the one I'm drawn to? That's the one I might be falling for?
All of it felt too big, too fast, too much. Hwan seemed to understand anyway. He pulled me into his arms, his face pressing into my hair, and just held me. No kiss this time, no heat building between us. Just closeness. Connection. The bond humming with quiet contentment.
"Jin-ho's going to kill me." His voice was muffled against my hair, warm breath ghosting across my scalp as he spoke into the strands.
"Why?" I asked the question into his shoulder, not pulling away from the warmth of his embrace.
"Because I'm definitely going to make him look bad tomorrow.
" He pulled back just enough to grin at me, that real smile that made my chest ache, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement.
"He'll do something sensitive and artistic and I'll have already set the bar impossibly high with my incredible dance moves and emotional vulnerability. "
I laughed despite myself, the sound escaping before I could stop it. "Your ego is incredible."
"It's a defense mechanism." He was still grinning, dimple appearing in his left cheek as he shrugged one shoulder. "But also I'm just that talented."
A knock on the doorframe made us both turn. Jin-ho stood there, notebook tucked under his arm, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him — Hwan's arms still loosely around my waist, our bodies pressed close together.
"Dinner's ready." His deep voice was carefully neutral, giving nothing away as his dark eyes moved between us. "Min-jun made enough for a small army. As usual."
"When does he not?" Hwan released me reluctantly, his fingers trailing down my arm before letting go, the touch sending a shiver across my skin even as he turned toward Jin-ho with a casual smile. "Come on, little omega. Let's go see what hyung made."
The kitchen smelled incredible.
Min-jun had outdone himself — the table was covered with dishes I couldn't name but desperately wanted to try. Japchae glistening with sesame oil. Some kind of braised meat that fell apart at the touch of chopsticks. Perfectly fluffy rice. Banchan arranged in small dishes like edible art.
"You made all of this in an hour?" I stared at the spread, genuinely impressed, my mouth already watering at the array of colors and scents before me.
"Closer to two." Min-jun set down a final dish — some kind of stew that smelled like home and comfort — and smiled at my reaction, his dimples deepening with obvious pleasure at my appreciation. "But I like cooking. It relaxes me."
"He stress-cooks." Tae-min was already reaching for the japchae, his chopsticks extended hopefully, only to have his hand swatted away by Min-jun's dish towel. "When you were sick, he made enough food to feed the whole building."
"I gave some to the security guards." Min-jun's ears went pink as he took his seat, ducking his head to hide his embarrassment. "They appreciated it."
"They asked if you were dying." Jae-won's voice was dry as he settled at the head of the table, but there was warmth underneath the words, affection softening the edges. "They thought it was a going-away feast."
"It was a please-get-better feast." Min-jun protested, gesturing for everyone to start eating with an impatient wave of his hand. "Very different energy."
I settled into the seat they'd left for me — between Hwan and Tae-min, across from Jin-ho. It felt deliberate, like they'd arranged themselves around me without making it obvious. Protective without caging.
"So." Tae-min loaded my plate before I could protest, piling it high with a little of everything, his movements quick and decisive. "How was the V-Live? Did Hwan-hyung make a fool of himself?"
"He was perfect." I said it honestly, glancing at Hwan and watching his ears go pink again at the compliment. "Fifty thousand people fell in love with him in real time."
"Only fifty thousand?" Hwan clutched his chest in mock offense, his eyes sparkling with mischief even as a real blush colored his cheeks. "I'm losing my touch."
"The peak was sixty-two thousand." Jin-ho spoke without looking up from his food, his voice matter-of-fact as he picked up a piece of braised meat with his chopsticks. "I was monitoring."
"You were monitoring?" Hwan raised an eyebrow at him, chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth. "Why?"