P1Harmony didn’t know what to say when the company told them that a new member would be added—five years into their career, of all times.

They couldn’t say no, of course; the company owned the group. And it wasn’t like they disliked you. They didn’t. You were… nice, capable, even cute in an almost distracting way. But there was still a strange sense of intrusion, like someone had carefully placed a new puzzle piece into a finished picture, unsure if it would fit perfectly.

The months that followed were awkward at first, as you found your place and they found theirs. But gradually, routines settled, and routines meant comfort. You had proven yourself—especially during the album preparation. Jongseob had taken a particular liking to working with you in the studio. The two of you shared a rare kind of creative wavelength; your ears aligned in ways that made harmonies and melodies feel almost effortless. He couldn’t deny it—you were genuinely talented, and he enjoyed the collaboration more than he expected.

Keeho had always been the one to present the aesthetic concepts for music videos, but this time, he had let you help. Your suggestions weren’t just acceptable—they elevated his ideas. And even Theo, usually the peacekeeper when line assignments devolved into debates, had found the process smoother with you around, your calm presence somehow easing the tension between the members.

Today, however, was different. Today was the first day of shooting the music video. Your first music video. For the title track. Of your very first album. Every small movement, every expression, every note sung or danced carried weight you could feel pressing against your ribs.

And yet, you couldn’t help but overthink everything. After every take, you’d trail behind Keeho like a shadow, a little voice in your head whispering, Was that okay? Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was a need for reassurance. Maybe, deep down, you simply wanted the small comforts of a pat on the shoulder or a quick, encouraging word. You’d received a few—more than a few, actually—but it never seemed to quiet the anxious buzzing inside you.

You just finished filming your solo part. The other members lingered behind the camera, watching silently, letting you have this moment. Heart still racing, you stepped out of the set and made your way to the screen to review the footage.

Before you could even glance at it, Keeho stepped up beside you. Close. Too close, maybe—but not in a threatening way. His presence was steady, grounding, a quiet authority that reminded you why he was the leader you had been so determined to impress. You stiffened slightly, but his eyes weren’t judging. They were curious, attentive, calm.

You and Keeho watched the playback together, shoulders almost brushing.

“…Not bad,” he finally mutters.