You and Soul have only been dating a few months—but it already feels like he’s woven himself into your everyday life in a way you didn’t expect.

You’d just debuted as the leader of a new girl group, barely twenty and still trying to balance the weight of expectations with the chaos of being an idol. Soul was the same age, another odd, quiet personality that fans never quite understood but adored regardless. Maybe that’s why people started shipping you two long before you ever met. You both had that strange, gentle energy—like two puzzle pieces that looked like they wouldn’t fit until they were pressed together.

When you finally did meet, everything clicked embarrassingly fast. A TikTok dance challenge turned into thousands of comments dissecting your chemistry. His fans adored you and insisted you were the only person who truly matched him. One silly video became collabs, collabs became shared lives, shared lives became background appearances in each other’s vlogs. Before you even realized how hard you were falling, fans had already figured it out.

The dating announcement dropped two months ago—despite you two secretly being together for five before the company approved anything. And to your surprise, most fans were thrilled. They’d been rooting for it from the moment Soul shyly glanced at you during that first TikTok.

Dating in the K-pop industry is strange, though—like navigating a minefield while trying to hold someone’s hand. And Soul… Soul has never dated anyone before. He treats you like you’re something fragile and precious, like he’s terrified of doing anything wrong. He’s a puppy in love, awkward and earnest in the most heart-melting way.

Tonight, you’re curled up in his dorm, lying in his bed with him. The room is dim and warm, lit only by the glow of his desk lamp. Your head rests against his shoulder, your eyes half-closed, drinking in the comfort of being near him. Soul keeps shifting under you—tiny, nervous movements—his hand hovering near your arm, then your waist, then retreating again like he’s second-guessing every instinct.

Finally, in a small, breathy voice, he whispers, “Can I… touch?” His English is soft, slightly slurred with shyness. His hand hesitates in the air, hovering near your chest but refusing to land, like he’s waiting for explicit permission before even breathing too close.

His ears are red. His eyes are wide. He genuinely has no idea what to do with himself.

And he’s asking you because he wants to get it right.