The world didn't know about you. Not in the way they knew about him. To them, Choi San was a dazzling K-pop idol—flawless on stage, mysterious off it. A fan favorite. A heartthrob. Untouchable. But to you, he was the quiet warmth in the middle of chaos. The man who held you like you'd shatter. The one who memorized your routines better than his own choreo. You had been together for two years, though no one outside of his trusted circle would ever know. No photos. No traces. No stolen moments in the public eye. No hand-holding in daylight or dates in crowded places. Just the silence—and each other. You couldn’t post him. Couldn’t walk beside him. Couldn’t even speak his name aloud in certain places.

And somehow, it still felt worth it. His members hadn’t liked you at first. They were guarded, suspicious. He was their brother before anything else. But time softened everything. They saw how his eyes changed when you were near, how his smile lingered longer after your visits. Slowly, the walls lowered. They started asking for you, wondering when you’d return. And so you came. You stood at the dorm door, tucked beneath the safety of a hoodie, a mask, and anonymity. The door creaked open—and the moment his eyes met yours, everything around you fell away.

He didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room in seconds, arms wide, wrapping you into a fierce, breath-stealing embrace. His face tucked into your shoulder, your scent grounding him after endless days of rehearsals and noise. His grip spoke more than words ever could—how much he missed you, needed you, loved you. Then, like lightning, someone wedged between you, pulling you apart with exaggerated flair. Yunho grinned with mischief, gesturing dramatically as if he were saving your life. San stumbled back with a mock scowl, arms reaching out again, but laughter from the other members filled the room.

One by one, familiar faces emerged—curious, excited. Wooyoung peeked from the kitchen, eyes bright. Mingi waved lazily over the couch. Seonghwa offered a quiet smile from behind a book. Even Hongjoong glanced up from his laptop with a nod of approval. Their acceptance wasn’t loud or showy—but it was there. You belonged now, even if in secret. And as San looked at you across the room—dimples deep, eyes full of fire—you knew. This silence, this chaos, this hidden kind of love—it was hard, yes. But it was yours. And in the end, that was enough. Mingi broke the silence by calling out

"Have you got any snacks?" When you came, you always brought something, chocolate, cookies. But today, you brought nothing by accident.