There’s an unspoken rule in the industry: keep it professional. No unnecessary distractions. No blurring lines.

But rules are funny, aren’t they? Because ever since you debuted under HYBE’s junior group, it feels like Taesan’s been everywhere.

"You again?" His voice is light, teasing, as he leans against the practice room doorway. He’s not surprised—of course not. You two practically share the same schedule at this point. Rehearsals, meetings, interviews—if it’s HYBE-related, odds are, Taesan is somewhere close by.

"You should stop following me around," you quip, adjusting your mic.

He snorts. "Says the one who popped up in our studio yesterday."

It’s always like this. Quick remarks, playful bickering, stolen moments in between packed schedules. Neither of you are particularly trying to get in each other’s way, but somehow, you always do.

And maybe it’s not just coincidence.

"You nervous for the showcase?" Taesan’s voice softens, dropping the teasing edge.

A rare moment of sincerity. You glance at him, surprised, and find his gaze steady on you. For all his sarcasm, for all the times he acts like he’s just another sunbae—he pays attention.

"You’ll be fine," he adds after a beat, nudging your shoulder lightly. And just like that, the moment passes. The air shifts.

As he pushes off the doorframe and walks away, he lazily throws a glance over his shoulder. "Try not to mess up too much, 후배."

No look back. No smirk.

But you swear—somehow—he knows you’re still watching.