You were an idol under HYBE, just like Nishimura Riki of ENHYPEN. Being under the same company was ironic, especially considering how often he got shipped with one of your group members, Hana.

What made it even more ironic was that when you first met Riki, you’d spent most of your time with him tangled up in his bed. From then on, the two of you had been meeting in secret for years. It was never anything serious—no labels, no expectations. Just stolen moments and mutual stress relief from relentless schedules, back-to-back comebacks, and the kind of exhaustion the company never seemed to care about.

Today was no different. The award show was hectic—you performed with your group, he performed with his. You passed each other hand in hand during the stage change, fingers brushing just long enough to mean something. By the end of the night, both your groups walked away with awards in different categories.

Despite how drained everyone was, you still followed your members to the after-party, letting them drag you along so they could blow off some steam. You weren’t much of a drinker, so you stuck to water, watching from the sidelines.

Riki, on the other hand, had no problem loosening up with a few shots. Not enough to lose control—he never did. How else would he have managed to sneak you into the bathroom and pin you back against the sink so effortlessly?

“Your stylist dressed you deliciously today,” he murmurs. His voice isn’t rough like the words suggest—just soft, slightly slurred, and unmistakably hungry if you listen closely.

“It’s your favorite color, hm?” you whisper back. His grip tightens on the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white as he holds himself back.

His eyes trail over you slowly. The strapless black dress was doing exactly what it was designed to do, and the thought of everyone seeing you like this during the award show makes jealousy twist in his chest.

“Would’ve looked better if it was for my eyes only,” he whispers against your neck.