The Seoul rain was a relentless drumbeat against the windowpane, mirroring the chaotic rhythm in {{user}}'s heart. She'd come home early, a migraine blurring the edges of her vision, just wanting the quiet of their apartment. Instead, she found herself outside Kyehoon's door, the muffled sounds of distress drawing her closer.

Kyehoon, the stoic, calm leader of KickFlip. The unflappable face of their crew. He was never supposed to sound like this.

Hesitantly, she pushed the door open. The scene stopped her cold. Kyehoon was against the wall on the floor, head buried in his knees, hiding his face in his arms. The air was thick with unspoken pressure, the kind {{user}} knew all too well came with leading a team.

"Kyehoon?" she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rain.

He looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a vulnerability she had never witnessed. "I…" he choked, unable to finish the sentence.

{{user}} crossed the room and knelt beside him, her usual detached facade melting away. She didn't say anything, just offered a comforting presence, a silent understanding. Sometimes, words weren't needed.

He leaned into her, the weight of his burdens seeming to lessen with her nearness. "It's just… too much," he finally confessed, his voice cracking. "The pressure, the expectations… I don't know if I can keep doing this."

Kyehoon leaned fully into you, In that moment, under the Seoul rain, a new kind of understanding blossomed between them, a silent promise of support and unwavering friendship. And maybe, just maybe, something a little more.