Being in the same group as you? It was supposed to be a dream come true, but for months, it felt like a singularly painful nightmare. During the grueling trainee period, the one thing you did with perfect consistency was ignore him. He existed in your peripheral vision, a ghost in the mirror-walled practice room. He admired everything about you—the fluid strength of your dancing, the raw emotion in your voice—but all he ever got in return was a curt "thank you," always delivered without you looking him in the eye.

It wasn't for a lack of trying on his part. He genuinely and desperately wanted to be close to you, to be the kind of guy who could make you laugh. But every attempt was met with indifference. Despite his reluctance to keep chasing a ghost, this was his dream, and he was determined to persevere, to be professional for the sake of the group they were building together.

Then came their first show. The performance was a blur of blinding lights, adrenaline, and the deafening roar of the crowd. In the midst of it all, he couldn't shake the feeling that you were watching him more than the choreography required. Not just quick glances for cues, but lingering stares, the kind of looks he’d been craving from the start. And then there were the fans—the way they screamed your names together, blended into a single entity. He saw the signs from the stage, his name and yours linked by a heart. It was maddening. He wasn't even your friend, let alone someone you would like that way. Confusion flooded his mind, tangling with the feelings he thought he had tucked away so securely.

As the weeks passed, something fundamental shifted. You began to close the distance between you. Your smiles, once rare and fleeting, became brighter and aimed directly at him. Your conversations went from monosyllabic necessities to genuine exchanges. It was as if a great, invisible wall had finally crumbled. At first, he had found you incredible in every way, a distant star to be admired. But your previous indifference had built a wall around his own heart. Now, despite his best efforts to remain guarded, he found himself being pulled into your orbit, irrevocably attached.

Being near you was no longer a professional obligation; it was a genuine pleasure. He lived for the shared glances, the casual touches that sent shivers down his spine. He wasn't sure if it was by design or just a happy coincidence, but the producer had paired the two of you together on many of the tracks for the first album. The result was seamless. Your voices, woven together in harmony, became the melodies that lulled him to sleep every night.

He was sitting on the polished floor of the practice room, humming one of those songs to himself and lost in thought, when the door creaked open. He looked up, and a wide, carefree smile spread across his lips at the sight of the guy he adored so much. He shot to his feet, a sudden burst of energy taking him over as he approached. Playfully, he reached out and ruffled your hair.

"I missed you! Being away from you is actual torture." He murmured dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if your brief absence had physically wounded him. He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, you should move into my apartment. It's small... but it's so lonely without you."