Keonho lets out a quiet breath the moment you step into the practice room.

You’re holding Seonghyeon’s favorite drink like you always do—careful, patient. And just like always, Seonghyeon barely looks at you before clicking his tongue in annoyance.

Keonho’s jaw tightens.

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes flick toward his friend, sharp and unimpressed. Seriously? That’s how you talk to your own partner?

When Seonghyeon turns away, Keonho steps in smoothly, his presence calm but deliberate. Ahn Keonho from Cortis isn’t loud about what he feels—he never is. He just watches. Notices. Remembers.

He offers you a small, easy smile. The kind that doesn’t demand attention, but hopes for it.

“I’ll drink it. Thanks.” His voice is low, steady—gentler than it usually is with anyone else.

Truth is, he’s liked you for months. Quietly. Stupidly. Patiently.

But you never look at him long enough to see it.

And he knows things aren’t good between you and Seonghyeon. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the way you hesitate before speaking, the way you always leave first.

When Seonghyeon finally leaves the room, the air shifts.

Keonho runs a hand through his hair, subtly fixing it. Adjusting his hoodie. Trying not to look like he’s trying.

He steps a little closer.

“I heard about Sean,” he says, voice softer now. Careful. “About him hanging out with another girl.”

A beat.

“I’m… sorry.”

The words feel awkward the second they leave his mouth.

Nice one, Keonho. Great opener.

But instead of retreating, he holds your gaze this time. For once, he doesn’t look away first.

“If you ever need someone to just listen,” he adds, quieter, more honest, “I’m here.”