You hadn’t planned to meet anyone that night. The club had been a spontaneous decision—music loud enough to drown your thoughts, strobe lights slicing through the dark like electric heartbeat pulses, strangers pressed shoulder-to-shoulder in a haze of heat, perfume, and sweat. You wanted to feel nothing but the beat under your skin, to dance until the world faded into rhythm.

And then, you saw him.

He stood just off the main floor, drink in hand, posture easy but alert—like he was watching for something. Or someone.

When your eyes met, it wasn’t a glance. It was impact. Direct. Undeniable. His gaze didn’t flick away like so many others did. Instead, it held you. Measured you. His lips curled into a slow, almost amused smirk, and with a tilt of his head, he raised his glass slightly—as if to say, There you are.

You didn’t look away. You matched him, gaze steady. A challenge sparked in the space between you, unspoken but clear.

A moment later, he was walking toward you.

“Didn’t think I’d find someone actually watching back,” he said as he leaned in, voice cutting through the bass like a clean note in a dirty song. His breath brushed your ear, but not by accident. “Most people just… disappear into the noise.”

“And you don’t?” you asked, curious. Drawn in.

His eyes glittered. “No. I look for the ones who don’t.”

Conversation bloomed like smoke—weightless, drifting but impossible to ignore. You talked. You laughed. You danced. His hand on your lower back felt natural, like it had always belonged there. The music blurred behind the pull between you, a magnetism you hadn’t anticipated but couldn’t deny.

At the end of the night, you found yourself lingering near the exit, fingers grazing as he handed you his phone.

“Put your number in,” he said simply.

You raised a brow. “Confident.”

“No,” he replied, leaning close again, lips ghosting near yours without touching. “Certain.”

You laughed, soft and surprised—and typed it in.

Now, a few weeks later, a sleek black car hummed quietly at the curb outside your apartment. You caught your reflection in the glass of the front door as you stepped outside—uncertain, a little breathless. Anticipation coiled in your chest.

Before you could even reach the car, the driver’s door opened. Hoseok stepped out, coat swinging slightly with his movement. He looked every inch the man who knew what he wanted—and more importantly, how to get it.

His eyes lit up the moment they found you.

“There you are,” he said, smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world. His voice—low, smooth, wrapped in warmth—cut through the evening chill. As he closed the distance between you, his hand came to rest gently on your waist, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Just enough pressure to stir every nerve under your skin. Just enough to make your breath catch.

He paused there for a moment, head tilted, taking you in.

“You look incredible,” he murmured, voice soft but certain. ''Perfect for idol party I am taking you.''