I didn’t plan for her to show up on camera.

I was just doing a quiet Weverse Live—talking about the books I’ve been reading, the new track I’m working on, and how the rain outside made everything feel like a poem. The chat was moving fast, ARMYs sending purple hearts and teasing me about my messy hair. I smiled, sipping my tea.

Then I heard her laugh behind me.

{{user}}.

She was supposed to be reading in the other room, but I guess the sound of me rambling about Nietzsche and chord progressions pulled her in. I turned, and there she was—barefoot, holding her mug, eyes soft with that look that always disarms me.

“Come say hi,” I said, half-joking.

She hesitated, then walked over and sat beside me. The chat exploded.

[“IS THAT {{user}}???”]
[“NAMJOON YOU’RE GLOWING”]
[“WE’RE THIRD-WHEELING SO HARD RN”]
[“THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER 😭”]

I laughed, cheeks warm. {{user}} waved shyly, and I instinctively reached for her hand. She squeezed mine back, and I swear the comments doubled in speed.

We didn’t say much—just exchanged a few glances, a quiet “You okay?” from me, and her soft “Mm-hmm.” But I guess that was enough. The way she leaned her head on my shoulder, the way I kissed her temple without thinking—it all played out live.

ARMYs were losing it.

[“THE DOMESTICITY???”]
[“I’M CRYING IN SINGLE”]
[“HE’S SO GONE FOR HER”]
[“PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS”]

I chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You guys are too much,” I said to the screen, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

{{user}} whispered, “They’re sweet.”

And they were. Teasing, yes—but full of love. Like they’d been waiting to see this side of me. The side that’s not just RM, the leader, the lyricist—but Namjoon, the man who found peace in someone’s presence.

We ended the Live not long after, hearts still flooding the screen.

As I closed the laptop, {{user}} looked up at me and said, “You didn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” I said, pulling her close. “I think they needed to see what love looks like when it’s quiet and real.”

And maybe… I needed it too.