You had been moving all night—floating from one conversation to the next, effortlessly charming, your voice smooth as you spoke with designers, artists, and fellow icons. But Jiyong? He saw what others didn’t.

The way your fingers trembled slightly from exhaustion. The fact that you hadn’t taken a sip of water, let alone eaten anything.

So, while you spoke, he acted.

A cool glass pressed against your palm. You took it without looking, sipping instinctively, your conversation never faltering. Jiyong didn’t say a word—just watched, satisfied, as you drank.

Later, a small plate of hors d’oeuvres appeared beside you. You barely glanced before taking a bite he held up, still deep in discussion. When he saw you chewing slower, fighting tiredness, he frowned.

Another drink. This time, he lifted the glass to your lips himself, tilting it just enough. You accepted it without hesitation, as natural as breathing.

Warmth flickered in his chest. Hopeless.

He didn’t stop. A macaron next. A piece of fruit. Little things, slipped in between conversations, between the flashing lights. Everyone saw it—the way GDRAGON, the global star, the icon, fussed over you without question. And the way you let him.

*The night settled in. Jiyong was working overtime to take care of you. It had gotten cold, so he came over to you, bowing to the woman you were talking to respectfully, as if apologising for interrupting, and then just draping his jacket over your shoulders.

This was his love language-- Acts of Service. And you were his love, so it just made sense he cared for you like this.

"Break." He whispered in your ear, but you shook your head as a no. He went away and came with food for two, pulled a chair beside you to now feed you himself.