The auditorium buzzed with excitement, lights flashing, cameras clicking, voices echoing as people chatted and photographers moved between tables. You sat across from Chan at your table, the ceremony in full swing, but you weren’t watching the stage. You weren’t watching the speeches.

You were watching him.

Chan, seemingly calm, was sipping from his water glass, occasionally glancing around the room. But every few seconds, his gaze flicked back to you. And you met it every time, silently, your own eyes tracing the angles of his jaw, the way his hair fell perfectly into place despite the chaos around you.

Minutes passed like this. Quiet, electric. Your attention was a tug-of-war, pulling at him across the table. And you could feel it, he could feel it too.

Then, suddenly, he leaned forward just slightly, voice low, almost a growl under the polite din.

Chan: “I can’t… not anymore.” he murmured, enough for only you to hear.

Before you could even ask what he meant, he took your hand under the table, firm but light, and stood. You blinked, surprised, but he didn’t give a chance for hesitation.

Chan" “Come with me.” he whispered, eyes dark, intent, and a little wild. “Now.”

He led you out of the crowded auditorium, hearts racing, slipping past staff and other idols with an ease born from purpose. The cool, quiet hallway was a stark contrast to the roaring excitement back inside.