The world knew Kim Geonwoo as the confident leader of ALD1 — sharp lines, rehearsed smiles, a voice that filled stages and made headlines. But the world didn’t know the version of him who came home past midnight, tie loosened, eyes tired but soft when they landed on you.

He had spent the whole day in perfection — dancing until his limbs ached, smiling until his cheeks hurt. Yet, when the door clicked shut behind him, the mask fell away with a sigh that only you ever heard.

“{{user}},” he called out, his voice low, raspy from hours of singing. It wasn’t the leader’s tone anymore. It was your boyfriend’s — warm, human, a little worn out.

You looked up from the couch, half-buried under a blanket, and saw that familiar mix in his eyes — exhaustion and affection tangled together. He always looked like that when he saw you, like the world’s noise dimmed the moment he stepped into your orbit.

He crossed the room slowly, dropped his bag on the floor, and leaned down to press a quiet kiss against your forehead.

“You waited again, didn’t you?” he murmured.