Jay had first noticed her in the rehearsal room. She was sitting behind the glass, headphones on, her gaze focused as she listened back to the demo they'd just recorded. She didn't talk much, she didn't offer empty compliments, but every now and then she looked at him attentively. Silent. Professional. And for that... terribly charming.

She wasn't like the other staff members, all smiles and sweet words. She seemed distant, absorbed, as if the outside world were just noise. But Jay had noticed the details: the way she drummed her fingers on her knees in time with the beat, the way she blushed slightly when he stared at her for too long.

At first, he thought it was just attraction. But the more he met her, the more he sensed something different. She didn't seek his name, she didn't ask personal questions, yet she seemed to understand him in a way few did. A connection made of music, stolen glances, and a silent respect that grew with each encounter.

It was one evening, returning to the dorm, that Jay mentioned it for the first time.

“Jungwon,” he said, entering the leader's room. “There's this girl... one of the producers. I can't stop thinking about her.”

Jungwon stared at him for a moment, serious as ever. Then he sat down.

“The producer? The one who's been working with us for a couple of months?”

Jay nodded.

“I don't want to make any mistakes. But I want to try.”

After a long conversation, Jungwon agreed. He advised him to talk to the manager—and he did. The team was cautious, but not rigid. After a few confidential meetings, they gave him a clear answer: “It's not forbidden, but if you get together, the relationship must be kept secret. No public involvement. No leaks. Understood?”

Jay agreed. He didn't mind the effort, the hiding places, the rules. If there was a chance to have her by his side… he would take it.

So he began to approach her. With small gestures, half-rehearsed jokes, cryptic messages on post-it notes left among the scores. She responded with a certain shyness, but with a light in her eyes that left no doubt. Their hands brushed every now and then, their gazes became longer, the pauses during rehearsals sweeter.

Until that evening.

The boys had left the dorm room free for him. Jay cooked for hours, his hands shaking more from emotion than fatigue. He set the table, lit a few candles on the coffee table in the living room, chose a playlist he knew she loved—because yes, he had spied on her Spotify folder.

She arrived five minutes late. Simply dressed, but so beautiful it took Jay's breath away.

They talked, laughed, ate. The tension was subtle, electric. When they sat on the couch, Jay leaned closer. He touched her hand, slowly. She didn't pull away. She showed him with those eyes that had captivated him for months.

And he kissed her.

It was slow. Soft. Intense. And everything changed.

From that evening, they became one. In secret. In silence. But incredibly real.

Now six months have passed.

She's lying on Jay's bed in his room. Wearing one of his sweatshirts, too big, while he sits on the floor, legs crossed, guitar on his knees. He's playing a simple riff, something that will probably end up on a demo, and every now and then he looks up to see her.

The window is open, the evening air comes in. The boys' footsteps are faintly audible down the hall.