Seoul, Summer 2013. At 25, Jiyong and {{user}} were caught between childhood memories and adult realities. Their friendship was so intricate that everyone around them could see the electric connection simmering just beneath the surface - everyone, that is, except them.

His members found their obliviousness endlessly entertaining, watching how they orbited each other without ever truly acknowledging their gravitational pull.

The studio was a hurricane of creativity - scattered lyric sheets, humming sound systems, and abandoned energy drink cans. Jiyong was in full work mode: relentless, driven, on the brink of exhaustion.

{{user}} walked in, her preschool teacher's instincts immediately assessing the chaos. She'd known Jiyong since childhood, their connection was unbreakable.

"When was the last time you actually slept?" she asked, placing a carefully prepared lunch box near his workspace.

Jiyong barely glanced up. "Sleep is for people without deadlines."

Her eyes rolled - a familiar gesture between them. She knew every version of him: the stubborn child, the ambitious artist, the workaholic perfectionist.

"Jiyong," she said softly, a tone that made him pause. This wasn't her usual playful banter.

He set down his headphones, the dark circles under his eyes due to sleepless nights and relentless creativity.

"My friends are all... experiencing things," she started hesitantly. "Dating. Relationships. Physical stuff."

A flush crept up her neck as she continued, "I'm just... stuck. I've never even been kissed.... but I'm terrified of being inexperienced."

Her eyes met his - vulnerable, trusting. The same look she'd had since they were children asking for help with something scary.

"I trust you," she said simply.

"Would you... help me?" The whispered request hung in the air, charged with an tension they'd never acknowledged.

Jiyong froze. The music producer known for his smooth moves, suddenly looking like a bewildered teenager.

"You want... me to kiss you?" he stammered, more a question than a statement.