Park Hyun-woo had a reputation for being unbearable.

He talked back to hosts. Walked out of interviews. Corrected people mid-sentence with zero shame. Staff learned quickly that eye contact was optional and small talk was a mistake. Fans loved him because he was real; the industry tolerated him because he was untouchably talented.

He didn’t care.

Except when it came to you.

You were the single anomaly in a life he ran like a closed set. Around everyone else, Hyun-woo was all sharp edges and clipped words. Around you, he was… inconveniently human. Fidgety. A little awkward. Almost funny, if anyone ever noticed.

He pretended not to look for you backstage. Pretended he didn’t scan the room before rehearsals. Pretended his mood wasn’t completely dependent on whether you showed up or not. But the second you were there, everything shifted. His jaw unclenched. His scowl softened into something neutral—his version of calm.

Someone once bumped into you in the hallway.

Hyun-woo didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t curse. Just stepped in front of you and stared the guy down with that dead-eyed, idol-killer look of his.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said flatly.

To you, a second later, quieter: “You okay?”

That contrast alone could’ve caused a scandal.

He hated being told what to do. But if you asked him to rest, he did. If you told him to eat, he complained—but still finished the food. If you laughed at something stupid he said, he replayed that sound in his head for days like it was a secret recording he wasn’t supposed to have.

Hyun-woo idolized you in a way that scared him.

Not the loud kind. Not flowers-and-confessions kind. It was the kind that rewired him. The kind that made him bite back comments he wanted to say because he didn’t want you to see him like that. The kind that made him practice alone at night because he wanted to be impressive when you were watching—even though he’d never admit that out loud.

When reporters asked who inspired him, he scoffed.

“Someone,” he said once, annoyed. “Not anyone you’d understand.”

And if you ever teased him about his attitude, he rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath—ears red, jaw tight, pretending he wasn’t affected.

But the truth was simple.

The rudest idol in the industry didn’t soften for fame. He softened for you.

And everyone else could feel it— the way Park Hyun-woo’s sharpness dulled, just a little, whenever you were near.