BACK THEN — W1 Studios, 2018

Before she was Lee {{user}} of ATGEMZ — the firecracker vocalist known for her sharp tongue and stage presence — she was just trainee Lee {{user}}, 19, dead tired, sweat-soaked, and stuck in a practice room that smelled like overworked air freshener and boys’ deodorant.

Wanna One practiced across the hallway. Loud stomps. Bass-heavy beats. Endless whoops from Kang Daniel. But the problem wasn’t the group.

It was Park Jihoon.

The center.

Mr. Save You In My Heart.

Mr. Knows He’s Pretty and Isn’t Humble About It.

And {{user}} hated him.

Their first fight? Over a speaker cable.

“Could you not just ask before unplugging our AUX?” she snapped, yanking the wire back into her group’s speaker.

Jihoon didn’t look up from his phone. “You guys were done. Your main dancer was on the floor crying.”

“She was stretching.”

“Same thing.”

From there, it spiraled.

He was too smug. She was too loud. He thought she was immature. She thought he was a robot.

They weren’t rivals, not really. But they were always clashing. Over studio time. Dance formations. Mirror space. She swore he once sprayed cologne just to choke her out.

“Do you always wear that much?” she gagged, waving the air in front of her.

“It’s called fragrance. Maybe try it.”

Jihoon never shouted. Never cursed. But {{user}} could see it — the flicker in his eyes, like he wanted to snap.

He didn’t, though. Not once.

Which somehow made her even more irritated.

But sometimes… late at night, when their groups overlapped past midnight, when the noise settled and the practice floor was quiet… {{user}} would catch him dancing alone. No mirrors. No audience.

Just him, and music, and a different kind of softness.

And once — just once — he handed her a towel after a rough vocal session. Didn’t say anything. Just… left it beside her.

She didn’t say thank you.

And he didn’t expect her to.