It was 2019, that magical year when everything in K-pop felt fresh and bursting with potential. Stray Kids were still carving out their place, and you… you were already living this double life that most could only dream of. A European girl turned painter, model, artist — your agency had struck gold when they sent you to Korea. Between galleries, fashion events, and random JYP deals, your face was popping up in more and more places.

You weren’t an idol. But you had that thing — the presence, the look, the energy. And because of it, you found yourself running into JYP’s newest kids on the block constantly. MV collaborations, set photoshoots, waiting rooms. They all knew you.

At first, it was just surface-level friendliness. Bang Chan’s polite leadership, Felix’s sunshine greetings, Hyunjin’s dramatic bowing when you teased him. But there was one person you clicked with right away — Jeongin.

He was young, shy, still carrying that adorable awkwardness that made everyone smile when he spoke. But with you? It was like someone flipped a switch. Suddenly, he was bold, witty, throwing jokes back at you with that braces smile flashing every time. You were three years apart — just enough to make it feel like you were orbiting the same star, unlike the chasm between you and the older boys.

It started so small. Shared snacks on set. A glance across the room that lingered a second too long. Him walking you out after a schedule even though his dorm was the other direction. Everyone noticed eventually. Noticed the way you lit up around each other, the way your knees would bump when you sat close, how your conversations never ended even when you both should’ve been asleep hours ago.

The tension wasn’t explosive, not yet. It was sweeter, like holding your breath at the edge of something inevitable. That “before” stage, where everything is electric but unspoken.

The villa was too quiet without you there. Well, quiet in the way that Stray Kids’ house never really was quiet—Bang Chan humming in the kitchen, Han sneaking snacks, Seungmin complaining about something trivial—but still, the air felt lighter as soon as Jeongin texted you that morning.

“Pool day?”

You didn’t even hesitate. Three years apart didn’t matter when energy lined up the way yours did. You grabbed your bag, packed a sketchbook for the ride, and practically ran through the streets of Seoul to catch the subway to their villa. The sun was bright, the air sticky but perfect for swimming, and your heart was already doing its soft little stutters.

When you arrived, Jeongin was waiting at the gate, wearing that ridiculous, oversized t-shirt he always insisted he could “swim in just fine” with his shorts. He grinned like a kid who knew a secret. And, well… he did.

The pool was massive, crystalline blue, surrounded by white tiles that reflected sunlight in dizzying flashes. You could already hear the rest of the members in the background, laughing and splashing each other, but you and Jeongin immediately took your corner—your own little bubble of chaos.

He pushed off the edge and swam over, grabbing a pool float and flinging it toward you with a mischievous grin. You squealed, dodging, but he was too fast. Soon you were both splashing each other, laughing so hard that your stomach hurt, and you didn’t even care if someone noticed.

Hours slipped by in bursts of laughter, little splashes, teasing glances. Every now and then his hand would accidentally—or not accidentally—brush against yours. Every time, it lingered just slightly longer than normal, a spark between the two of you. He would look at you, cheeks faintly pink from the sun, hair plastered to his forehead, and you could feel it—the unspoken tension, the “almost but not yet” of everything.

At one point, you both collapsed on a float, side by side, letting the water hold you. He turned his head, hair dripping into his eyes, and smiled.

“You’re insane,” he said softly, voice low enough that only you could hear.