Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The pause had been organised earlier. Rumi knew perfectly well when the best moment was to slip out of the crowd of artists, and she intended to use it wisely. The girls kept their mouths shut, giving her silent permission. Her little mission included swinging by the buffet and bringing them snacks on her way back. Scrambling through the horde of noisy people was her daily routine. The whole shebang was perfectly counted with precision to one second. One smile here, one wave there, a few polite phrases - all to seem as invisible as she could be. If she didn’t get this minute to herself, she might scream at the next person who asked her to pose. The backstage lights still felt burned into her retinas. The migraine was real, but she’d never admit it, not on a night like this.

She only let herself exhale when the backstreet door clicked shut behind her. Rumi leaned her back against the cool wall, eyes fluttering closed. The cool of the wall seeped through her jacket, grounding her just enough to stop the spin in her head. The muffled bass of the venue still pulsed through the brick, but here, away from the screens, the flashes, the tension, she could finally breathe. For the first time that evening, she wasn’t being watched. Not by fans, not by cameras, not by expectations. Just her, her breath, and the faint hum of power lines above. She inhaled deeply, then dug into the secret pocket to retrieve the item she had been anticipating all evening.

“Ah-ha!” she smiled and brought the vape pen out. A quick inhale, a short exhale. Sweet, artificial clouds filled her lungs and softened the spike in her temples. It wasn’t freedom, but it would do.

Breathing in and out of the poisonous but sweet clouds, the girl closed her eyes, focusing on the surrounding sounds. The flight from the main hall was a must. The overstimulation from the noise and lights didn’t do well with her migraine. But those awards were way too important for her to miss out, so she endured it for as long as she could. And the gap between the segments was too thin for her to relax fully, so a few puffs had to do. 

Then a voice, low and almost too familiar, cut through it.

“Got a light?” the tone was playful, and she almost didn’t realise who was speaking to her. 

The Jinu of the Saja Boys . Too close. A ghost from a rivalry she didn’t ask for, now standing inches from her bubble of solitude. Cigarette poised between two fingers. The other hand holding the pack, like he’d just stepped out of some noir dream.

His tone was casual. Teasing. Unbothered.

Of course it was.

“Huh?” she put out very eloquently. 

Of course he would show up now. Of all moments, when she could finally breathe.

Her visible confusion was apparently hilarious because the asshole started to laugh. Right in her face. 

Now having had enough interaction, Rumi huffed and wanted to evacuate from there right away. Only to almost met her forehead with his arm, which was used to block her escape route. The asshole put it to the wall, now half hanging on it, not letting her leave so soon. 

“Rumi,” he said, half mumbling, not to drop the cigarette from his mouth, lazily lighting it up. “It’s been what? Three months?” He took a full inhale of the traditional thing, taking it out with a little dark following his hand. “Some would have thought you’ve been avoiding me.” 

Three months. Like he’d counted. Like he knew exactly how long she’d been avoiding him. 

“Well, to do that…” She brought her vipe to her lips. “...I would have to be keeping tabs on you. And I don’t.” She exhaled straight into his face. Her breath brushed his cheek, and she caught the faint scent of sandalwood under the smoke - annoyingly familiar. “Don’t you have producers to manipulate? Chop-chop,” she waved in the direction of the doors. “Everybody’s waiting, Mr. master of illusion.”

“Well, I have a perfect spectator right here,” he motioned to her, getting that nasty smog into her nostrils, making her cough. 

The smell of burnt tobacco clung to the air like an unwelcome memory.

“You’re old,” she mumbled, rubbing her nose and mouth with the back of her hand. “No one’s smoking that bullshit nowadays.” 

He tilted his head, amused. The smoke curled lazily around him like a cloak. “That little airy soda pop flavour you keep breathing is no better for your lungs.”

“Sure,”  she scoffed, stepping half a pace back. “Tell that to the crowd in a tight space, the ones who are gonna smell that rat poison.” She reached her neck forward with the biggest grimace she had. 

He chuckled sinisterly. “Well, aren’t you a little too close for too long? I guess we’re both stinking rat poison right now.” He dropped the ashes onto the floor. “Want one?” He leaned just slightly closer, the edge of his fingers grazing her knuckles as if by accident.

The response came even before he finished the question. “Over my dead body.” 

She’d come out here to breathe. And somehow ended up suffocating all over again.

She hated how steady his voice was while she had to force her own to sound detached. He stood like he had all the time in the world. And Rumi? She was seconds from unravelling.

“Jeez,” he chuckled, breathing out. His laugh was low, rumbling out like smoke - unfiltered and meant to sting. “Don’t need to be so dramatic. They’re not actually poisoned. I was just being polite.” He used the cigarette-free hand to play with the ends of her purple braid. The way his fingers grazed her braid felt more deliberate than accidental. Like muscle memory.

“So, how’s it been going? Any updates I should be up to?” His voice dropped half a note, teasing but just slow enough to sound like he actually cared.

Rumi snorted, leaning back into the wall, putting some distance once more. Her arms crossed against her chest as she averted his eyes. But her body still hummed with leftover adrenaline, or was it heat? She folded her arms tightly, as if holding something in. “None of your business, Jinu.” She took a quick puff, checking her phone. “And I really need to be going. The next segment’s about to start.” She tried to leave again, but the hand went from the braid to the wall once more. 

“You’re even more naive than I thought if you think you’re gonna win that award. Have you seen the statistic? We’ve crashed your little trio.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that in our victory speech,” she hissed, lifting one corner of her mouth in a blade-sharp sneer, eyes narrowing like she could slice him in half with a glance.

But the burn in her chest wasn’t from the vape.

Of course, she’d seen the stats. She’d been refreshing them since the moment Golden dropped, almost in sync with Your Idol. Same genre, same week, same target demo. It wasn’t a coincidence, and it sure as hell wasn’t an accident. Every morning, every night. Tracking numbers. Social mentions. Digital sales. Fan votes. The gap had started as a sliver, but now it was a chasm, and Saja Boys were winning. No matter how hard Huntrix fought, the momentum wasn’t in their favour. She hated disappointing Bobby.

Still, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her doubt. So she took another drag, slower this time, steadying the shake in her fingers. Fake calm. Real fury.

And Jinu knew it. And that smug, knowing look in his eyes told her he knew she knew it, too.

That little sentence made her drift off as she inhaled another round of sweet nicotine. And then let out a small yelp as her wrist with the vape had been seized and brought into Jinu’s chest. His other hand covered the back of her neck and hid her face into his neck. Her breath hitched - not entirely out of shock. His palm was warm, too warm, anchoring her like a memory she didn’t want. 

“Jinu, what the fuck-”

“Shut up,” he hissed. “And watch your breath, we have company,” he whispered. 

She basically spat out the sweet cloud from her throat into his collarbone and watched it disappear between them. A quick glance in the direction behind Jinu, she noticed it. A flicker of white, too quick, too sharp, snapped in the corner of her eye. Rumi stiffened. Her head turned slowly, like prey sensing the predator.

Between two dumpsters, half-hidden behind a rusted fire escape, a figure crouched. Lens pointed right at them. A small red light blinked as another shot clicked. Quickly, she turned her gaze, pretending she didn’t notice the sneaky paparazzi.  

“Shit,” she snapped, but understood the situation and kept her vape hand flat against his chest, while the other slide right across his shoulders, posing like a hug.

Idols didn’t smoke. Not publicly. Not visibly. Not female idols, at least. The headlines would twist it immediately: “ Huntrix’ Leader Caught Smoking Backstage ,” “ Bad Influence from Saja Boys? ”

She could already hear the comment threads: " Disgusting behaviour. " "They’re supposed to be role models. " "If she does this, what else is she hiding? "

She wasn’t scared for her image; she was terrified for the group.

“What now, genius?”

“Now,” he mused, taking her vape and hiding it in his pocket to embrace her with his arm around her waist. She felt the hesitation in the way his palm hovered, like even he wasn’t sure how far to go. But when he finally pressed in, she didn’t step away. His hand paused at the curve of her back before pulling her closer, almost unsure. She didn’t fight it. Not right away. She didn’t even notice when he discarded his cigarette, but both of his palms were on her. “We will walk back to the building like nothing happened.” 

The hand holding her neck disappeared, and he guided her to the door slowly, keeping their hips close. Their steps were unhurried, almost synchronised. Every movement felt practised, like they’d done this before, even if they hadn’t. He opened it gently, holding it for her to enter first. She walked past him, their arms brushing, and for a moment, she thought he might say something more. But he just watched her go, his gaze unreadable.

A series of quick steps, then a full-on run.

Rumi slid into her seat next to Mira, just as the host's voice rose again under the spotlight. Perfect timing. On the surface, she looked composed, maybe a little breathless, but present. Her fingers smoothed her braid as Mira finished perfecting her lipstick, eyeing her with that half-knowing, half-amused look.

“Took you long enough,” Mira muttered, snapping her compact shut with a soft click.

Rumi didn’t answer right away. Her heart was still somewhere in that alley, beating far too loudly for the quiet around her. She touched her jacket. The vape was gone, still hidden in Jinu’s pocket like a secret he now owned. Worse, her jacket reeked, not of the sugary clouds she was used to, but of real cigarettes. That acrid, unmistakable stench clung to her like guilt. Like proof. 

“Yeah, it’s…” she hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper. A flash of fingers on her wrist. Heat at the nape of her neck. That damn smirk. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Mira caught a whiff of the scent and blinked. She opened her mouth to question it, but then simply nodded, tucking it away like a note for later.

Rumi stared ahead at the stage, but her focus was fractured. Her thoughts scattered like broken glass across the carpet. On stage, the nominees were being announced. Her group’s name rang out to applause. Rumi’s lips curled into a perfect, camera-ready smile. But beneath the gloss, her pulse was still back in that alley. And he was still watching. Her thoughts flickered back to the alley, the flash of the camera, the sneaky paparazzi catching their moment.

What would they make of the photo? How much would they see?

“The winner is... Huntrix!”

Applause thundered through the hall, the girls’ faces lighting up as their hard work was recognised.

Rumi’s smile bloomed, radiant and fierce. Yet beneath the surface, her pulse quickened, not from triumph, but from the tangled knot inside her chest. Her eyes flicked to the crowd, searching. A few rows down, just off-centre. Sitting back in his chair, his posture infuriatingly relaxed. Not looking at her, of course not, but somehow, he didn’t need to. He was there. Like a shadow at the edge of her vision, like the bitter aftertaste she couldn’t shake. 

For a moment, the noise, the cheers, the flashing cameras, all of it faded. And she was left with the sharp sting of victory, and the ghost of a rivalry that wasn’t finished. Jinu’s gaze finally met hers for a heartbeat, unreadable and cool. And then he looked away. Rumi took a steadying breath, getting up with Mira and Zoey, ready for the speech. 

Tonight, Huntrix had won.

She would deal with her PR team later.

But the real battle, outside the spotlight, was only just beginning.

Chapter Text

Many emotions were fighting their way into Rumi’s mind, clashing like rival bands on the same stage. Rage and frustration were currently winning, pounding like drums in her ears, especially as Jinu’s fingers casually toyed with the hem of her jacket, as if he had any right. The douchebag was acting all cosy and chill, with his arm lazily draped around her waist, pulling her just close enough that the cameras would capture a picture-perfect moment of mutual affection.

It wasn’t mutual. Not even close.

Her spine was stiff, her muscles tense beneath the surface of her glossy, fan-service-ready smile. Every instinct screamed retreat, but years of training had taught her how to look effortlessly delighted under a spotlight. She hated that she’d gotten so good at it.

Meanwhile, the rest of their bandmates were eating up the attention, laughing, waving, signing autographs like this was just another well-oiled PR miracle. Maybe it was. Maybe for Jinu, it was just another move on a chessboard he was already three steps ahead on. But for Rumi, this wasn’t part of the plan. This was chaos, dressed up as charm, and all of it sparked by one reckless moment, one vape, one click of a camera, and now the world thought they were in love.

“Okay, so… You remember when I went out to smoke…?” Rumi began awkwardly, clutching her phone like a lifeline as the limo rolled through the glowing city.

The girls hummed in distracted agreement, half-tired, half-hyped from their win.

“Yeah, great, so… I… maybe… just maybe pulled the worst PR stunt ever…” she added, voice shrinking at the end.

Mira, always the first to detect bullshit, narrowed her eyes. “And by that you mean…?”

“RUMI, WHAT IS THIS?!” Zoey shrieked, nearly throwing her phone across the seat. “You’re in a secret relationship with Jinu?! And you didn’t tell us?!”

“What?” Mira snapped, snatching the phone. She squinted at the screen, while Rumi leaned in, already feeling the oxygen leave her lungs.

There it was. That photo. Not damning. But not innocent either. Jinu’s arms wrapped around her, her head tucked near his collar, one hand hooked casually over his shoulder like they’d done this before. It looked soft. Romantic. Real.

Damn it.

All this because of one dumb vape.

And the smell still clung to her, faint but undeniable, like regret wrapped in smoke.

“I can explain-”

Mira didn’t even look up. “You hugged him like that just to hide a vape?”

“Yes!” Rumi said, too quickly.

Mira’s jaw clenched. “Because I distinctly remember you coming back smelling like you’d just stepped out of a cigarette factory.”

Rumi winced. “Okay, yeah, technically yes-”

“And he just happened to show up right then?” Mira’s voice was calm, too calm. “During your top-secret illegal break, grabbed your vape mid-puff, and instead of, I don’t know, backing away, he hugged you like that?”

“It was fast,” Rumi insisted. “He saw the camera, reacted before I could even-”

“Touched your hair,” Zoey added helpfully, eyes wide.

“Oh my god, will you stop,” Rumi groaned, dragging her hands over her face. “It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t planned. It was damage control!”

“Smelled like damage,” Mira muttered under her breath. “You reeked of it.”

Rumi groaned, sinking into the seat. “Please tell me this isn’t already trending.”

Zoey looked back at her phone. “It’s not top three yet, but give it an hour.”

Rumi buried her face in her hands. “Perfect. We win the biggest award of the year, and this is what they’ll talk about.”

“And you didn’t even bring us those snacks…”  Zoey whined. 

“So, didn’t take you for the sharing type,” he chuckled, his fingers making slow, deliberate circles on the sleeve of her long-sleeve turtleneck.

“Oh, I love sharing,” she snapped back, her voice dipped in sarcasm.

Then she lifted her head, brightening instantly as a young girl stepped up, clutching a small poster. “Hi!” the girl beamed. “You and Jinu look so cute together. Like... such a perfect couple.”

Rumi blinked, caught for half a second, then smiled with effortless charm, taking the poster. “Aw, thank you! That’s sweet of you,” she said, handing it back with a perfect mask of cheer.

Beside her, Jinu leaned slightly toward the girl, his voice smooth and just shy of teasing. “Right? We do make a pretty convincing couple, don’t we?” He shot Rumi a sideways glance, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Sure you do,” he muttered under his breath, that smug smirk still glued to his face. God, it was annoying.

Rumi leaned forward as far as she could in her seat, subtly checking how the others were doing. Much to her surprise, Zoey seemed perfectly fine, keeping her cool and gently adjusting Mystery’s posture or expression whenever he veered too far off from “fan-friendly.” Mira, though, Rumi saw it. The storm simmering just behind her practised smile, each grin a little too tight, each autograph a little too precise.

The two pink-haired members of Saja Boys, Rumi always mixed up their names, sat flanking Mira, teasing her playfully while charming every fan within reach. Their chemistry with the crowd was flawless, almost as if none of this behind-the-scenes drama had ever happened. But Rumi knew better.

“Okay, so, girls,” Bobby began, pacing across the dressing room like a storm in a blazer. “First off, congratulations. You really deserved that award.”

The room fell silent, tension thick enough to cut. Bobby spun around suddenly, eyes locking on Rumi.

“Second, Rumi, what the hell was that?”

Rumi stood frozen, hands clenched behind her back, lips pressed tight. The shame burning on her face was impossible to mask beneath her stage makeup. How did everything get so out of control so fast? she thought, heart racing. This was never supposed to happen like this.

“A secret relationship?” Bobby gasped, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “I mean, I get it. Believe me, I do. Forbidden romance? Star-crossed rivals? The fans will eat it up.” His voice dropped to a flat, deadly whisper. “But getting exposed like that? Girl. On. A. Vape. Break?”

Rumi groaned, dragging a hand down her face, wishing she could just disappear. If only they hadn’t caught me with that stupid vape… If only Jinu hadn’t been there... “It wasn’t even like that…”

“You’re hugging him on camera,” Bobby pointed out, voice sharp. “The Internet is already building wedding pinterest boards.”

Her chest tightened. Seriously? The thought made her stomach twist. She wasn’t ready for any of this. Not now, not ever.

“Thankfully, I’ve been able to get in touch with their label and agent,” Bobby continued, pacing again, phone in hand. “We’ll organise something. An official joint statement. Maybe even a quick interview or staged photoshoot, make it look intentional.”

Rumi’s eyes widened. “Wait. You want us to go public?”

Bobby stopped and faced her, expression dead serious. “At this point, denying it will only make things worse. The photo’s already out there, and the fans are eating it up. Better to lean into it than fight the wave. We don’t have to give them everything, just enough to steer the narrative.”

Zoey let out a low whistle. “So we’re playing pretend now?”

“More like playing smart, we can keep it to promote the next album,” Bobby said, glancing at Rumi again. “You okay with that?”

Rumi opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Because okay wasn’t the word for what she felt. Her mind was spinning with everything crashing at once, the secret, the exposure, the pressure. And all of this… all of it was because of one stupid vape.

At that moment, her phone vibrated in her hand - a message from Jinu. Heart pounding, she glanced at the screen. Then, reading his words, a sinking dread washed over her like a cold wave. She wanted to throw herself out the nearest window.

I think they got my profile wrong.

That official, public beginning of their relationship was never supposed to start that day. They were supposed to wait it out more, keep it under wraps until the timing was right. But the idiots just had to crash their event and steal the spotlight, as if they weren’t already dealing with enough pressure. Rumi’s chest tightened at the thought, a mix of frustration and disbelief swirling inside her. Yet, Bobby was oddly thrilled by the chaos unfolding.

“He’s such a funny guy,” Jinu chuckled, watching Bobby from the corner of his eye. “Seems like a good one, though.”

“Because he is,” Rumi rolled her eyes. “He was surprisingly supportive of the whole circus.”

“Aww, so now I’m part of the circus? What am I, a lion?”

“A monkey. Not a smart one. Just like the rest of you. You should keep them in check, you know?”

“Nah,” he dismissed her with a grin. “They’re doing great. Look, Baby’s about to fall asleep, Zoey’s keeping an eye on him and Mystery. And Mira? I’ve never seen her so…”

“Stressed? Uncomfortable?”

“I was about to say organised, but sure, that works too. We all look like we’re having the time of our lives.”

The long line of fans snaked past the table where both Huntrix and Saja Boys were seated, waiting patiently for their turn. One by one, they stepped forward with notebooks, posters, and phones held out, eager for autographs. The girls signed quickly, exchanging smiles and brief hellos, while the boys did the same, laughing quietly among themselves as they passed the items back.

From where they sat, the hustle of fans was a steady rhythm, a constant flow of requests, excitement, and the faint smell of perfume mixed with sweat and adrenaline. For a moment, the chaos of the night faded into something almost normal, and Rumi let herself imagine what it would be like if all this could just be easy.

“So, I do have my share of brilliant ideas, ah?” Jinu said smugly, shifting slightly in his seat.

“Nope,” Rumi shot back, lips pursed. “Still an idiot.”

“Such a shame you weren’t so sharp during the awards. If I remember correctly, you froze like a deer in the headlights.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she muttered, then turned on a dazzling smile for the fan in front of her. “Here you go! Have a nice day!”

The fan beamed, took the signed card, and scurried off, clutching it like treasure.

“Oh?” Jinu leaned closer, dropping his voice low. “So you’re saying I should’ve just let everyone see you out there, puffing on that vape like a rebellious teenager? Which, may I remind you,” he tapped his jacket pocket, “is still very much in my possession?”

Her smile altered, just for a breath. But Jinu saw it.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m a man of mystery,” he whispered, grinning. “But I do like a dramatic reveal. What’s your name?” he asked the girl sweetly, then scribbled his signature with practiced ease. “Thanks for waiting, sweetheart.”

The fan beamed and bowed before rushing off.

Then, just loud enough for her to hear, he added, “You think I’m just messing around, Rumi. But I do get it.”

Her pen paused. Her fingers twitched slightly. “Get what?”

“That feeling,” he said. “Like the only thing left in your control is the mistake you choose to make.”

Another fan approached, bright-eyed, clutching a lightstick. Rumi gave a polite smile, but didn’t respond.

“I remember Seoul Dome,” he added, signing another photo.

She said nothing, just passed her signed card forward and nodded politely to the fan. Then Jinu spoke again, quieter now, but sharper.

“You think I kept the vape to blackmail you? I didn’t. I took it. Because I knew if someone else saw you with it, you wouldn’t walk away with just an online scandal. You’d lose everything.”

Rumi looked down, adjusted her sleeve, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“Why are you saying this now?” she asked under her breath.

“Because you act like no one understands,” Jinu said, signing the next item without looking up. “Like no one’s ever stood in the same wreckage.”

She finally turned her head toward him, slow and deliberate. “You look at me, Jinu. That’s not the same as seeing.”

Then she smiled wide, bright, perfect - and accepted the next fan’s photo with a warm “Hi! What would you like it signed to?”

Jinu passed back a signed card of his own, voice low and unreadable. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Before the next fan stepped up, a small girl hesitated shyly at the front of the line. No more than eight, with little fringe and a paper folder clutched tightly in her arms. A staff member gently nudged her forward.

She stepped in front of Jinu, eyes wide with awe. “Excuse me, Mr. Jinu. I made this for you.”

She handed him a carefully drawn piece of fanart: a stylized version of him with glowing wings, soft golden light around his head. “You’re an angel in my story,” she said, almost whispering. “You have a beautiful soul.”

Jinu stared at the drawing, silence folding over him like a sudden chill. His usual grin faltered, lips pressed tight as his gaze lingered on the little girl’s earnest face. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

Then, almost quietly, he asked, “Did you draw this yourself?”

She nodded shyly.

“It’s… beautiful,” he said, voice low and raw in a way no one had heard before. His fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the paper, a flicker of something sad passing behind his eyes.

“Thank you,” he added, almost as if he was thanking himself.

The little girl smiled up at him, unaware of the shift.

“I knew you were nice… even when people say you’re scary on TV sometimes. Like a demon.”

Jinu let out a small, hollow laugh, the sound barely a breath. He reached for one of the glossy cards on the table and carefully wrote a note before handing it to her.

“You keep drawing, okay?”

She clutched the picture to her chest and skipped away, her joy like a light in the dim room.

Rumi watched quietly, sensing the unexpected weight in Jinu’s shoulders.

For the first time, the unshakable smirk faded.

It had been weeks of nonstop interviews, rehearsals, and endless social media appearances and Rumi felt like she was running on empty.

Mornings started before sunrise with vocal warm-ups and dance practice that left her muscles aching. Afternoons dragged on with scripted photo shoots and carefully staged moments for the cameras. Evenings blurred into more interviews, sometimes solo, sometimes with Jinu, whose smug smile seemed to mock her fatigue as he leaned effortlessly through every take.

Between shoots, she was expected to keep up a constant stream of posts: perfectly curated snapshots, behind-the-scenes clips, and interaction with fans that never truly ended. Every like, every comment was another demand on her attention.

When Zoey grabbed her arm after the last shoot, Rumi pulled back sharply.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said, voice tight, eyes tired and impatient.

Zoey held her gaze steady. “You need this, Rumi. You’re burning out.”

Rumi’s jaw clenched. “I can’t just drop everything. There’s too much riding on this.”

“Exactly why you have to step back. Come on, the Mira found a rooftop bar. Let's give it a try. No cameras, no schedules.”

Her friends waited, expectant.

Rumi fought the urge to say no again. But the weight of exhaustion pressed down harder than her stubbornness. “Fine,” she muttered. “But just for a little while.”

The door opened to a roofbar bathed in warm fairy lights and soft jazz. Zoey and Mira were already there, seated comfortably with drinks in hand, laughing easily.

Zoey lifted her glass. “Finally.”

Rumi sank onto the chair beside them, letting the night’s calm wrap around her. For a while, it was just the three of them, a rare bubble of peace amid the chaos.

Rumi hated how she flinched when a pair of hands wrapped around her shoulders. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. The boys had arrived, loud and careless, dragging extra chairs to squeeze into their circle like they belonged there.The rooftop bar was quiet, just high enough above the city to feel private, the crowd nonexistent thanks to Bobby’s connections. It was technically neutral ground. Which was good.

Because if one of them said the wrong thing, no one would see who threw the first punch.

Before she could look up, an arm slid around her waist.

Jinu’s voice was low and casual. “Thought we’d join the party.”

Zoey and Mira exchanged looks, amused, wary, and maybe a little pissed.

Mira’s eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at Jinu. “This was supposed to be a girls’ night.”

Jinu’s smirk deepened. “Guess I’m just too charming to keep out.”

Abby brought a chair to sit next to the pinknette with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’m on my best behavior.”

Rumi forced a smile, trying to stay calm.

The night just got a lot more complicated.

Jinu surprised everyone by starting the conversation. “So, I’ve talked to our manager. Gwi-Ma said the label’s happy with the public reaction so far-”

“How about we drink to that?” Abby cut in, already reaching for the tray of shots, his voice loud over the soft rooftop music.

“Yeah, sure, just wait a sec, okay?” Jinu muttered, barely concealing his annoyance as he rolled his eyes.

Then, without a word, he turned slightly. Rumi expected the usual arm slung over her shoulders like some smug claim. But instead, he reached for her hand and rested it in his lap, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

That one small gesture, so casual, so intimate, paired with the warm buzz of alcohol, short-circuited her brain for a moment. Jinu kept talking, something about scheduling, coordination, public appearances, stuff she knew she should be paying attention to. However, all of it eventually became background noise. Her focus slipped, drifting from the words to the sensation of his thumb gently brushing her knuckles, anchoring her somewhere between confusion and calm. Reality blurred around the edges.

Before she knew it, Jinu fell silent, and the conversations bloomed. 

Using the moment, Jinu leaned over. His smirk faded for a fraction of a second as he looked at her. “You seem tired,” he said quietly to Rumi. 

She only shrugged, masking her exhaustion with a practised smile. “Just a long couple of weeks,” she replied softly.

“Working on a new album, huh? You’re always grinding.”

Rumi smirked, eyes flashing. “Yeah, it’s about how horrible a fake boyfriend you make. That’s the album title, actually.”

Jinu laughed, shaking his head. “Guess I should step up my game. How about I buy you a drink?”

A red alarm rang through her head. She shook it off and said, “No, thanks. I need to get my own alcohol.”

“O-kay,” he said, genuinely confused. “I was really kidding about that rat poison, you know that, right?”

“Call it trust issues,” she shrugged. 

Keeping an eye on the girls, she saw Zoey being busy flirting with Mystery, her laughter light and effortless. Meanwhile, Mira looked like she was about to bite Romance’s finger off when he reached out to play with her hair. Nothing new. 

“Well, I’ll be getting one. If you can excuse my brief absence, babe,” he teased, but the alcohol in her veins made it hit harder than usual.

“Yeah, fuck off.”

“Anyone want something to drink? Not you, Abby, you can order on your own. I’m asking the girls.”

“Oh! Me!” Zoey called out immediately when she heard the alcohol part.

Jinu smiled. “At least one person here trusts me.”

Rumi rolled her eyes, smirking. “Trust you? That’s a stretch.” She took a slow sip from her own glass, eyes flicking back to the others.

Jinu chuckled under his breath, unfazed.

“Harsh crowd tonight,” he muttered, then turned to Baby, Romance and Abby. “Come on, let’s go be heroes.”

As they disappeared down the stairs, Rumi let out a slow breath, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly, but not completely. She stared down into her drink, swirling the liquid aimlessly, pretending like her mind wasn’t trailing after him. The teasing. The arm around her. That dumb smirk. The way he said babe like it meant something and not just another one of his jokes.

She hated that it worked. Hated that a part of her chest buzzed every time he said her name with that grin. She was tired. That was all. Tired and tipsy. That was the excuse. Had to be.

Across the table, Mira gave her a subtle look, not judging, just knowing. Rumi straightened in her seat, pushing the thoughts away like steam off glass. No time for that kind of mess. Not tonight.

Jinu returned first, drinks in hand, with Romance, Abby, and Baby trailing behind.

“Got the goods,” Romance announced, placing a cocktail in front of Mira with a small flourish. “As requested. Heavy on the lime.”

Mira raised an eyebrow but accepted it. “I’ll let it slide if it doesn’t suck.”

Abby set his own drink down and immediately pulled out his phone, already half-distracted. Baby handed a bright, fruity drink to Mystery, who lit up like he’d just been given a prize. “Aww, you remembered what I like,” he mumbled and sounded not so happy, and Baby just shrugged, cool as ever. Meanwhile, Jinu passed a drink to Zoey, then held up his own, something citrusy with a weird colour gradient, and turned to Rumi.

“Wanna try mine?” he offered, playful and maddeningly casual.

She didn’t even look at it. “No, thanks. Still don’t trust you.”

He grinned. “Fair enough.” Then, smoothly, he dipped a hand into his jacket pocket and slipped something under the table into her palm.

The vape.

Her fingers closed around it on instinct.

“See?” he said under his breath, eyes still on his drink. “I do return things. Eventually.”

Rumi stared at the vape in her hand for a moment. She knew she shouldn’t, her throat was already dry from days of interviews, but something about the weight of it in her palm felt grounding. Familiar.

So, without a word, she brought it to her lips and took a slow drag, the vapor curling out around her in a quiet cloud.

Jinu didn’t say anything. Just watched her, his expression unreadable.

The drinks kept coming. Mira made some snide comment about the lime being too sharp, Zoey was already on her fourth and mid-story about a chaotic fan meet, and Rumi… Rumi just kept sipping the ones she or one of the girls brought.

She hadn’t eaten much throughout the day, barely anything since breakfast, and now the warmth in her stomach felt more like hollow heat. Her limbs buzzed faintly, her head light, her body too relaxed to hold up all on its own. At some point, she shifted in her seat, meaning to stretch, or maybe just find something steady, and ended up leaning against Jinu’s side. Just a little. She didn’t mean to lean on him, not at first. But the heat in her limbs, the fog in her head, the stupid cocktail on an empty stomach… it all blurred the edges. Her shoulder bumped his. Then lingered. Then, without warning, he shifted - one arm curling around her waist, the other steadying her thigh, and pulled her into his lap like it was the most casual thing in the world. Like he’d done it a hundred times before.

Her breath caught. The rooftop bar, the chatter, the music, it all seemed to fade out for a second.

“Jinu,” she said under her breath. Not quite protesting. Not quite anything.

“You looked like you were about to fall off the chair,” he murmured, voice low against her ear, tone lazy, almost indifferent. But his hands were careful. Like he knew exactly where her balance ended.

Around them, the others were laughing too loudly, arguing about drink flavours, draped over chairs and shoulders alike. Too far gone to notice anything that wasn’t slurred or sparkling. So no one saw Rumi stay in his lap.

Rumi’s head rested lightly against his chest, her breath steadying. The noise around them faded even more. Then, almost out of nowhere, she murmured, “I miss your cat.”

Jinu stiffened just a little, the casual air slipping for a heartbeat.

“That little cutie pie,” she added softly, “probably the most precious thing you have. Does he miss me?”

He rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Whines about your absence every day.”

“You should’ve given me some parental rights,” she teased. “Like weekends at my place and stuff.”

He laughed quietly. “You’d never survive the chaos.”

Jinu’s fingers toyed with the edge of Rumi’s long-sleeve turtleneck, tugging lightly despite the summer heat.

“You know,” he said with that familiar smirk, voice low, “Have I ever told you I’ve written Your Idol about you?”

Rumi froze for a heartbeat, eyes widening in shock as the words landed harder than she expected.

“It’s summer,” he added, still smirking, “why hide under all that when everyone knows you don’t have to?”

Rumi stiffened, crossing her arms defensively. “Maybe I just like it this way.”

He caught the defensive edge and leaned in closer, voice low and certain.

“Please. I’ve seen what’s beneath the sleeve more times than you realise.”

Her eyes flicked away for a moment, then met his with a flicker of something unreadable.

Jinu’s fingers traced a slow circle on her wrist, warm and deliberate. “So don’t pretend you’re hiding. You’re just scared of who gets to see.”

Rumi’s eyes flashed with sudden offence, the tension snapping tight between them.

“Maybe you don’t get to decide who I’m scared of,” she said sharply, pulling free from his hold.

She slid off his lap and back to her chair, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

The easy warmth between them vanished like smoke.

“Alright,” she announced, voice cool but tired. “Why don’t we call it a night? Let’s head back home.”

Zoey and Mira exchanged quick glances, but both seemed a little distracted. Zoey was still caught up in a laugh with Mystery, while Mira’s attention was split between gently tugging at Romance’s sleeve and resting her other hand on Abby’s arm. When Rumi spoke, Mira snapped her head sharply toward her, startled out of her thoughts. Then, realising Rumi was waiting for an answer, she cleared her throat softly.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea,” Mira said, her voice a bit quieter than usual.

Zoey nodded, eyes flicking back to Rumi. “Definitely. Let’s get out of here.”

Jinu stayed silent, watching Rumi with an unreadable expression as she gathered her things.

Zoey pushed back from her chair first, forcing a bright smile as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Goodnight, everyone,” she said, voice a little too cheerful.

Mira rose hesitantly next, fingers brushing Romance’s sleeve one last time before she pulled away, giving a small, tight smile. “Yeah… goodnight,” she added softly.

Rumi lingered in her chair a moment longer, the exhaustion weighing heavily on her. Her hands clenched lightly in her lap as she fought to steady her racing thoughts. Why does everything have to feel so complicated? The easy moments always seemed just out of reach.

Finally, she stood slowly, voice low and flat. “Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

The atmosphere at breakfast the next morning was awkward enough to slice with a knife.

They sat slumped around the table, eating in unusual silence, each movement slower than usual, the hangover hitting them hard.

Rumi’s head buzzed dully, the last traces of alcohol still wrecking her system. Her croissant sat half-eaten on her plate, forgotten.

“So…” Mira finally broke the silence, stirring her buldak with unnecessary intensity. “I’ll just go straight to the point. Rumi, did… something happen yesterday?”

“Like something bad?” Zoey added slowly, glancing over with that gentle but cautious look.

Rumi blinked. “What?”

“Listen,” Mira said, tone sharpening just a bit, “we were all drunk, but if Jinu did something-”

“What? No!” Rumi choked, nearly spilling her coffee. “Seriously, Jinu would never-”

“Then why did you change your mind so quickly?” Zoey pressed, voice still soft. “You were so cuddly with him. Then suddenly you rushed us out of there.”

The leader looked down at her plate. The silence stretched. 

Rumi exhaled hard through her nose. “We have a strict schedule. And it was late. That’s it.” She stood up abruptly, grabbing her phone.“I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

Neither of the girls responded right away. The silence that followed said more than either of them dared to.

Almost two weeks later, Rumi sat stiffly, not exactly thrilled to be there, least of all next to him. And yet, there she was. In his manager’s office. With Jinu. And, thankfully, Bobby.

“So, did you two finish it?” Gwi-Ma’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Rumi didn’t like that man. Too cold, too controlling. And right now, far too vague.

She blinked, her eyes growing comically wide and confused.

Finish what?

Was this something Jinu or Bobby had forgotten to mention?

“Yes,” Jinu answered smoothly, and she turned to him, speechless.

“We just have to record it, but there hasn’t been any time lately. Huntrix had been busy with their new album and Saja Boys-”

“You had plenty of time, Jinu,” Gwi-Ma snapped, tone icy. “You just didn’t use it well.”

“Well,” Bobby cut in, his tone much warmer, “it would be hopeless without Rumi’s engagement. He should wait until they can both focus on it.”

Rumi still hadn’t spoken. Her mind scrambled to piece things together. What exactly had she just been signed up for? She glanced at Jinu, who looked far too comfortable for someone who’d just dragged her into something she knew nothing about.

The cold stare of Gwi-Ma fell upon her. She braced herself, expecting to get chided too. But instead, his voice softened a notch. “Rumi, be sure to drop your exact schedule either to Bobby or to me so we can book the studio. We’ll make sure no one bothers you two.”

She gave a small, tight nod, still trying to catch up. “Of course.”

Rumi and Jinu had barely stepped out of the office before she shoved him against the nearest wall, her eyes burning.

“What the hell was that about? What studio? Why?” Her voice was low but sharp, just this side of snapping.

He blinked, caught off guard but not exactly surprised. “The love song we have to drop to promote our new albums? I told you about it. Two weeks ago.”

She stared, confusion flashing into frustration. “What?”

Then it clicked.

That rooftop bar.

The heat. The drinks.

The way her head had started spinning somewhere between his teasing and her exhaustion. She’d tuned out. She hadn't meant to - but she had.

“Fuck. I forgot,” she lied, voice tight.

“Yeah, fuck,” Jinu hissed, shoving off the wall. His jaw was clenched, and for once, the usual grin was gone.

“Wait, did you write it by yourself?” she asked, guilt starting to stir in her chest.

He tilted his head, expression unreadable. “Well, you’ve been avoiding me. What else was I supposed to do?”

Rumi opened her mouth, closed it again. Her throat felt dry. “I-I mean, if you had reminded me, I would’ve found time and-”

“It’s fine,” he cut in, voice clipped, eyes not meeting hers now. “I handled it on my own. You just need to come and sing your lines.”

She flinched. It wasn’t what he said, it was how. The cold professionalism. Like they were just strangers in a studio. Just another duet. Another job.

A long, tense second passed.

Rumi stared at him, jaw tightening. The guilt hit first - low and sharp in her gut. She had been avoiding him. Intentionally. And maybe she hadn’t been fair. But then came the flare of anger, just as quick, covering the guilt like armor.

“So that’s it?” she snapped, stepping closer. “You just went ahead without even checking if I was actually okay? You don’t get to play the victim here.”

Jinu turned to her slowly, folding his arms. That unreadable, practised expression settled over his face. “You didn’t exactly leave room for that.”

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “I’ve been drowning in work. Barely sleeping. You think I had time to sit and write a duet about us?”

He scoffed, his jaw twitching. “It’s not about us.”

The words landed heavier than he probably meant them to.

Her expression faltered. Just for a second. Then she straightened her shoulders. “Right,” she said bitterly. “Because writing a love song with your fake girlfriend has nothing to do with us.”

His mouth opened, then closed again. He looked away for a beat, hands digging into his pockets. “Don’t twist this. You’re the one who’s been pulling away. I just… filled the space.”

A quiet settled between them. Heavy. Too close.

Rumi let out a sharp breath, blinking a little too fast. She felt like the hallway walls were closing in. Finally, she muttered, “Just send me the track.”

Bobby, at last, left Gwi-Ma’s office and waved for her to join him.

“Jeez, what a guy that Gwi-Ma, huh?” he chuckled once they were settled in the limo, tugging at his collar like the stress still lingered. “He’s a legend, but he’s sure as hell demanding. I feel sorry for Jinu if he ever messes something up.”

“Yeah,” Rumi muttered, eyes fixed on the window. “He’s kinda scary.”

There was a beat of quiet. Bobby glanced at her, but didn’t push.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded too quickly. “Just tired.”

“Want me to book you a therapist appointment?” 

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

You: I want to change the lyrics.

Jinu: No.

Rumi sighed and hit call . 

Surprisingly, he picked up even though it was the middle of the night. 

“No, Rumi,” he said instead of hello.

“Jinu, the chorus doesn’t make any sense.” 

“So? Deal with it, I wrote it on my own in two weeks.” 

“ Why does it feel safe every time I let you close? ” she sang. “It’s cliché. Why does it feel right every time I let you in? Do you hear the difference?”

The silence on the other side made her nervous. 

“Anything else?” 

Rumi shifted the phone, suddenly unsure if she’d gone too far.

“Well…” she hesitated. “The third line. ‘All the secrets I swore I'd be burying’—it’s a mouthful. It doesn’t flow.”

Another long pause. Then, finally, Jinu sighed. “You’re really calling me at 2 a.m. to workshop lyrics?”

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m calling you at 2 a.m. because we’re recording tomorrow and I don’t want to sound like I’m reading off a diary entry from a melodramatic middle schooler.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he muttered.

“Jinu.”

He exhaled, quieter this time. “Okay. Fine. What do you suggest?”

There was a beat of stunned silence, on her end this time.

“I… I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

“Classic,” he groaned, but she could hear the reluctant smile behind it. “Fine. We’ll go through it in the morning. But bring coffee. I’m not doing lyrical surgery before caffeine.”

She smirked. “You got it, drama queen.”

“Go to sleep, Rumi,” Jinu murmured, voice softer now, touched with exhaustion.

But before she could reply, a low, familiar purring drifted through the speaker.

Her heart caught. “Pet Derpy from me,” she said, her voice instinctively softening.

There was a pause. Then, unexpectedly, his camera flicked on.

Rumi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden burst of light. It took her a second to realise what he was showing her: a glimpse of his dimly lit room, the crumpled sheets, and nestled on the pillow beside him, Derpy, curled up into an enormous fluff ball, paws twitching in sleep.

Rumi’s breath hitched. He still had the same stupid pink blanket, soda-patterned, she once bought as a joke, draped over the bed.

The cat gave a little snore.

“He still steals the good spot,” Jinu muttered.

“He’s perfect,” Rumi whispered. Her chest ached in the strangest, warmest way.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, just listening to the steady hum of purring.

Then Jinu yawned. “Anything else you wanna edit at two in the morning, or can we call this a night?”

Rumi smiled faintly. “Goodnight, Jinu.”

“‘Night, Rumi.”

“You have to admit, this part is just not right,” Rumi said, frowning as she glanced at the lyric sheet. Derpy was beaming with her attention, fawning over her lap.

“Fine,” Jinu sighed, holding out his pen. “Give me that.”

She handed it over reluctantly.

He scribbled a few words, then smirked. “What, you don’t like Your Idol written the same way?”

Rumi rolled her eyes. “Well, it was trial and error, wasn’t it?”

Jinu shrugged, playful but stubborn. “Hey, sometimes mistakes make the best lines.”

“So…” Rumi's voice lowered, uncertain. “You did write it about me? I'm the only one who'll love your sins , that line was to me?” She took a nervous sip of the Starbucks coffee she bought for them on her way to his apartment. 

Jinu didn’t answer right away. His fingers tapped the side of the lyric sheet, eyes avoiding hers.

“Not entirely,” he said finally, voice quiet. “It was a mix of things. The… thing that was between us back then. And the chaos that came with the debut. The fame. Everything kind of… bled together.”

Rumi looked down, pretending to focus on the crumpled paper in her hands, but her chest tightened.

“Right,” she said, barely audible. “Makes sense.” But it didn’t. Not really.

“Okay, that was the last take,” Bobby held up his thumbs, happy as ever. “I think we’re done.”

Next to him, Gwi-Ma hummed, eyes still on the monitor, lost in his thoughts. The silence stretched for a few seconds too long. Then, with a slow nod, he finally spoke. “Good job, you two.”

His tone was neutral, maybe even begrudging, but it was praise nonetheless.

Rumi stepped out of the booth, brushing her braid back, her heart still pounding from the take. Jinu followed close behind, quiet, unreadable as always.

“If that’s all,” Gwi-Ma said, rising from the chair, adjusting the jacket of his suit with practised ease. “I need to get going.”

He shook Bobby’s hand firmly, then gave a brief nod toward Rumi and Jinu before striding out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Rumi glanced sideways and noticed the subtle shift in Jinu’s posture. His shoulders lowered just a fraction, jaw unclenching, like he’d been holding his breath the entire time Gwi-Ma was in the room.

“Didn’t realise you were that tense,” she muttered, half-teasing.

Jinu gave her a dry look. “You try working with someone like him breathing down your neck.”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Bobby chirped, far too cheerful for how drained Rumi felt. He turned to them with a gleam in his eyes. “I know you two have been through a lot lately, so I decided to give you a little reward.”

Rumi blinked, suspicious.

“I’ve booked a whole evening just for you - at the Coex Aquarium!” he beamed, dramatically producing two tickets like they were golden keys. “Totally private. No fans. No crowds. No lines. Just vibes. Fishy vibes. Mandatory. Gwi-Ma approved. Sponsored it even! Go have some fun, kids.”

Rumi stared at the tickets, then at Jinu, then back again. Of course. Because nothing about her life could be normal.

The aquarium was empty, echoing with the muted hum of water filters and the occasional bubbling of tanks. It was quiet, not awkward, not quite comfortable either just quiet.

Jinu walked a few steps behind Rumi, watching her as she paused at every other exhibit. The jellyfish drifted like tiny ghosts in the dark water, casting soft blue glows on her skin. She didn’t say much. Neither did he. But he didn’t need her to, not tonight.

By the penguin habitat, he muttered something half-stupid about tuxedos and how one of them walked like Bobby. She didn’t laugh, but her lip curled up slightly. He counted that as a win.

They lingered longest at the shark tunnel. The glass arched above them in a seamless dome, letting light shimmer across their faces as enormous silhouettes glided silently overhead. Rumi leaned on the railing. Jinu stood beside her, close, but not close enough to touch.

“Do you remember the aquarium in Busan?” he asked, voice low.

She turned to glance at him, something guarded behind her eyes. “Barely.”

He didn’t press. Instead, he nodded toward the stingrays sweeping past above them. Their hands brushed when they pointed at the same one. She didn’t move away. Neither did he.

By the time they reached the final chamber, a massive cylindrical tank that surrounded them in pale blue, the air between them had thinned, grown electric. Somewhere about a manta swam, casting a shadow over them for a second. They stood in the centre, bathed in flickering light, the slow, hypnotic motion of fish swimming all around them.

Jinu looked at her, like really saw her. Rumi suddenly felt the pull of shyness in her brain, pretending she didn’t see it. 

“You should take your hair down sometimes, Rumi,” he said softly.

Her brows twitched in surprise. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, yet he still focused on it. “It looks almost blond in this light.” 

He stepped in. Close enough that her breath caught. His eyes searched hers, then dropped slightly, her oversized blouse had shifted with the movement, the fabric loose enough to reveal a glimpse of skin on her collarbone.

His gaze faltered for only a second, enough to catch the faint outlines of marks she usually kept hidden. Noticing this, she quickly reached to fix it, swearing under her breath. Jinu didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. His voice, when it came again, was even softer.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said, “you’re just as beautiful with your cracks showing.”

Rumi didn’t answer. The words sank in, slow and deep, pressing somewhere under her ribs. Her throat tightened.

He reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, fingers lingering just barely against her skin. She didn’t move. And then, without fanfare or warning, she leaned in.

Their lips met, hesitant at first, unsure, like they were both afraid it would shatter something. But it didn’t. It just… settled. Soft. Real. Honest.

It wasn’t rushed, or hungry. It wasn’t desperate. It was quiet, like the room around them, like forgiveness and history and something too complicated to name.

When they pulled apart, just slightly, their foreheads almost touched.

Neither of them spoke.

There was nothing that needed to be said.

The glass shimmered with moving shadows. Somewhere above, a manta ray glided overhead, silent and ancient and still.

Rumi closed her eyes for a second, letting herself breathe.

And Jinu let her.

They never started dating officially, at least that’s what she kept repeating to herself as she waited for Jinu to finish answering the reporter’s question.

“We may or may not be working together for a new song available for both our bands’ next albums,” he teased smoothly, flashing that easy grin of his. “And it may or may not be a love song, right, my may-or-may-not-be girlfriend?” He chuckled sweetly, his arm tightening ever so slightly around her waist.

The reporter laughed, delighted by the coy answer. Cameras flashed.

Rumi smiled too or tried to. She tilted her head just right for the photos, leaning ever so slightly into him like she was supposed to. Like it didn’t sting. Like her chest wasn’t tight.

It was all part of the script. The teasing, the flirting, the too-long glances and half-whispered jokes. She knew how to play this game.

And yet, every time he called her that, may-or-may-not-be girlfriend, a part of her twisted. Because they never talked about what they were. Because maybe she wanted more. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was safer not to ask.

The reporter moved on, someone else asked about tour dates, and Jinu’s hand dropped away.

Rumi’s skin missed the warmth immediately.

Céline wasn’t happy with her.

“It was a mess to start with. I can’t believe Bobby let you fool yourself like that.”

“It’s just for the show,” Rumi said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “To promote our new albums. We need the boost.”

“Rumi, you, Mira, and Zoey can do better than cheap shipping games,” Céline’s voice was cold, sharp like glaciers cutting straight through her heart.

Rumi stared at her aunt, confused and stung. The words clung to her skin like frost. She didn’t even know why she had come to visit.

Maybe some part of her still thought she'd find comfort here.

“When I was an idol…” Céline began, then hesitated, the words catching like bitterness in her throat. “How could you let yourself be sold like that, Rumi? Do you even know what kind of man their manager is?”

“Mr. Gwi-Ma-” Rumi started, defensively.

“Isn’t someone you should meddle with,” Céline cut her off, voice low and firm. “Not him. And not one of his boys.”

“But-” Rumi tried again, voice shrinking to something small and breakable.

“But, Rumi?” Céline’s gaze didn’t waver. “Your mother would be so disappointed.”

That did it.

Something cracked in Rumi’s chest like a glass pane under pressure. The words knocked the breath out of her. She looked away fast, blinking hard, trying to hold herself together. Her throat burned.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, it was suffocating. Her arms stayed stiff at her sides, her fingers curled into her palms.

“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, but Céline’s face didn’t soften. She felt her eyes sting, but blinked fast. No. Not here. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Rumi said, her voice tight. “We needed the publicity. And that vape… The album-”

Céline cut in coldly. “So you sell yourself for it? You really think this is how you honor your work? Your worth?”

A deep ache bloomed in Rumi’s chest, slow and awful. She clenched her jaw, holding in the tremble threatening her lip.

“You don’t understand-” she tried again, her voice faltering.

“I do understand,” Céline said sharply. “I was an idol, remember? I know what it does to you. And I know men like Gwi-Ma. You’re letting yourself be used, and you know it. Just like your mother did.”

Rumi shook her head, chest tight, throat closing up.

“I’m not my mother.”

Her aunt just looked away, like she was already done.

And that was it. That was enough.

Rumi stood up too quickly, nearly knocking her chair back. The sting in her eyes finally broke loose, a single tear falling before she could wipe it away.

When Rumi returned to the tower that night, the apartment was warm with the glow of the television. Zoey and Mira were wrapped in their puffy bathrobes, a mess of snacks between them as Twilight played softly in the background.

“Hey, Rumi!” Zoey grinned when she saw her. “Damn, took you a while. He was such an ass all this time?”

Rumi froze in the doorway.

“No-I… we…” she tried, but the words got stuck somewhere between her chest and her throat. Her lips still tingled from the kiss, her coat smelled faintly like his cologne, and Céline’s words were still echoing through her skull.

Your mother would be so disappointed.

The pressure built too fast. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes burned.

She didn’t even know what she wanted to say, only that something inside her was unraveling. That everything, all at once, had hit too hard.

Mira muted the TV. Zoey sat up straighter. Neither of them asked. They just made space.

Rumi dropped her gaze and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. Then, letting out a heavy sob, she stepped forward, her movements stiff and uneven, and sank between them on the couch. The warmth of their bodies on either side steadied her, even as her own trembled.

She told them everything.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I thought I could handle it. That it was just for the cameras. That I was in control. But I’m not. Jinu, he kissed me. And then that stupid interview, and then Céline… she said my mom would be ashamed of me.”

Zoey reached over, wordlessly squeezing her hand. Mira pressed her knee gently against hers.

“I feel like I’m being pulled in different directions,” Rumi choked. “Like everyone wants something from me, and I don’t even know what I want.”

They just stayed with her.

The joint concert seemed like a good idea. Key word: seemed. At first, it had all the marks of brilliance, cross-group promotion, sold-out venues, headline buzz. Fans were losing their minds. Management was thrilled. The stage was massive, the lights blinding, the energy electric.

And yet, Rumi stood behind the curtain, heart thudding too fast, clutching the mic like it was the only real thing in this entire chaos. Somewhere backstage, she could hear Zoey and Mira laughing with one of the Saja boys. Jinu was probably already in position for the opening set, calm as ever, perfectly untouchable.

It should’ve been exciting. It should’ve been a dream.

But all she felt was the slow, creeping dread curling around her ribs.

Because being this close again, on stage, in interviews, in rehearsals, meant walking a razor-thin line between what was fake and what was not.

The kiss wasn’t supposed to happen.

The “maybe-girlfriend” comment wasn’t supposed to sting.

And Céline’s disappointment still clung to her like smoke she couldn’t wash out.

Where was her vape when she needed him.

The curtain rose. The lights hit.

And all she could do was smile like none of it burned.

Right after it, she disappeared as the backrooms exploded with emotions, cheers, laughter, someone yelling about missed cues, others high on adrenaline and sugar. Rumi didn’t say a word. She slipped out the back, unseen, unheard, clutching her vape like it was the last stable thing she had.

The fabric of her oversized sleeve hid it well, but not the tremble in her fingers. Her hand shook when she brought it to her lips outside, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the heat behind her eyes.

One pull. Then another.

Her throat burned, but at least it quieted the buzzing in her head. The screaming thoughts. What are you doing? Why are you here? What does it even mean anymore?

She leaned against the brick wall of the building, the noise of the concert still pulsing behind her like a second heartbeat. But out here, alone in the dark, all she could feel was how far she was drifting, between who she was supposed to be and who she’d let herself become.

“Got a light?” she heard from her left.

Spooked, Rumi jerked her head toward the voice, her heart leaping into her throat. For a split second, she didn’t breathe, caught in the eerie familiarity of the moment. The soft hum of the city behind them, the after-concert haze, and the presence invading her fragile solitude, it all felt too familiar.

Déjà vu wrapped around her like a second skin.

And there he was. Jinu, half-shadowed in the low light, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, curious. He didn’t have a cigarette, just his usual arrogance cloaked in a grin, as if this was all just some casual coincidence.

She stared at him, her vape still between her fingers, smoke curling faintly around her wrist.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she muttered, voice brittle.

“You didn’t answer the question.” His voice was low, teasing. “Got a light?” He nodded toward the vape. “Or are you just hiding from the world again?”

The déjà vu shifted, because last time, she hadn’t kissed him. Last time, she hadn’t let herself fall. This time, she wasn’t sure which version of herself he was talking to.

Rumi’s breath hitched. Inside, a storm raged, thoughts colliding, twisting in a spiral she couldn’t stop. Quit everything? The words echoed louder than they should, spinning into a chaotic whirlpool of doubt and fear.

Am I just tired? Or is this something deeper? Her mind scrambled for answers, but all she found was a tightening grip around her chest, a cold wave crawling up her spine.

She forced a steady breath, but inside, everything cracked, fractured hopes, buried regrets, the weight of expectations crushing her.

Her eyes flickered away, lips pressed tight, holding back the tremor threatening to spill over. She wasn’t ready to break, not yet.

“I think I want to quit.”

The silence was heavy.  The words hung in the air. Jinu’s brow furrowed, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.

He glanced at her, unsure. “Quit… what exactly?” he asked carefully, voice low.

Rumi looked away, her fingers tightening around the vape. “Everything. This. Us. The whole damn mess.”

Jinu shifted uncomfortably, searching her eyes for something, certainty, maybe, or a clue to what she really meant. Suddenly, he took out a familiar pack. 

“Okay,” he said and lit up in his cigarette. 

It was that simple. 

Rumi swallowed hard, the knot in her throat tightening with every word Bobby spoke. One last PR stunt. The phrase echoed in her mind like a countdown to something inevitable and terrifying.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear, but instead, she nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “One last time.”

Bobby’s grin was sharp but reassuring. “That’s the spirit. After this, it’s all over. You get your freedom back.”

But as she looked down at the floor, doubt gnawed at her. Was it really freedom, or just another cage in disguise?

She glanced up, catching Jinu’s eyes across the room, his expression unreadable, a mixture of resignation and something softer she wasn’t ready to name.

They were supposed to perform Free right after Takedown. Despite the scratchy tightness in her throat, Rumi pushed through, determined to give her best. Every note felt like a battle, but she masked the strain with practised smiles and confident moves. The crowd didn’t notice the small cracks, only the polished star they expected to see. Backstage, as the adrenaline faded, the exhaustion settled back in, heavier than before.

She was just minutes away from finally forgetting the whole mess, just one last performance, and it was supposed to be easy.

Until Jinu kissed her at the end of the song. Right there on stage.

Her heart stuttered, her breath caught, and the world blurred for a heartbeat. The kiss was electric, unexpected, and completely out of script. The audience gasped, the cameras caught every second, and the weight of everything they’d been trying to hide crashed down on her.

Rumi quickly stepped back, forcing herself to compose. She smoothed her dress, took a steadying breath, and lifted her chin. Her eyes scanned the crowd, meeting the flashing cameras and the sea of expectant faces. She gave a small, controlled smile, polished and confident, exactly what her fans expected. Inside, her heart was racing, but she buried the chaos behind calm eyes and a flawless performance, refusing to let anyone see the cracks.

Rumi was raging. Her eyes blazed with anger, her breath sharp and uneven. “Are you kidding me? You just kiss me in front of all those fans and cameras like it’s some game!” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

Jinu opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.  “How could you mess this up now?” she snapped, voice thick with betrayal. “We agreed, no more pretending. No more us. And you go and make a scene like this?” How much trouble that could cause?”

Her whole body trembled with frustration as she stormed past him, the weight of the moment crashing down hard.

Of course, he chased after her, voice desperate. “Rumi, wait, please.”

She didn’t even glance back, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Wait for what? Another show? Another round of your perfect acting?” Her words cut sharp, dripping with scorn.

“What we had, it was real!” he insisted, eyes pleading.

She stopped, voice cold and unforgiving. “Real? You? Don’t make me laugh. Remember what you said at the Seoul Dome? About me being spoiled, selfish, ignorant? Funny, coming from the one who walked away from his own family.”

The weight of her words hung heavy between them, tearing through the last threads of what once was.

“I remember.” She was fuming. “I remember you had no right to lash out at me like that.” 

“It was Gwi-Ma,” Jinu said quietly, as if the name itself could still sting.

Rumi’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“He told me to end… us. The whole thing.”

Her breath caught. “Why?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper, confusion flashing across her face like a glitch in her composure.

Jinu’s jaw clenched. “He said you were a liability. That you were too loud, too opinionated. Too emotional. He said I’d lose everything if I didn’t cut it off.”

For a second, Rumi didn’t say anything. Her mind scrambled to connect dots that now hurt to align. He always hated her. Her voice was small when it finally came. “And you listened to him?”

He was silent for a second, eyes dropping to the floor. “I was honestly surprised he even allowed the whole fake dating thing now. I have no idea what changed him.”

Rumi stared at him, heart thudding with a dull ache. “So you just went along with it? Again?”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said quickly. “I thought maybe this time it could… fix things. Or give us a chance to-”

“A chance?” she cut in, voice rising. “A chance to pretend we were something we’re not until it got convenient for him to pull the plug again?”

Jinu stepped closer, hesitant. “No. A chance to actually be something, Rumi. I thought maybe-”

“I always believed you had a beautiful soul, Jinu,” she murmured, her voice low, barely above the quiet thrum of her own heartbreak. “And maybe you do.” She looked up at him then, eyes glistening but steady. “I was just not meant to be the one witnessing it.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, irreversible like a curtain falling between them. Jinu opened his mouth, searching for something, anything, to say. But nothing came.

And Rumi didn’t wait. She turned and walked away, heels echoing down the hallway, her dress fluttering like the last remnants of something fragile and finished. On her way out - she threw out the vape. She should definitely quit smoking.

Chapter Text

Mira’s first encounter with the Saja boys was laughable at best. 

She and Zoey had been out at a club, trying to catch their breath after a tough tour. Rumi wasn’t with them, of course not. Rumi was far too modest to ever drag herself into places like this, places of sin as she had called it.

Mira only remembered fragments of the night, mostly the two of them waiting at the bar for drinks. Suddenly, she felt an arm grab hers. Panicking, she spun around and smashed the guy’s nose. At least years of training hadn’t gone to waste. It felt like slow motion as their eyes locked, and the guy’s expression shifted, like he suddenly realized something. The incident caused a brief panic. The guy stammered out apologies, explaining he’d mistaken her for his boyfriend.

Mira laughed at the pathetic excuse, until that boyfriend showed up. Mira froze, eyes wide, as the guy she’d just hit approached, pink hair, yellow jacket, almost like hers.

Shock washed over her face, and she immediately took a step back.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, unable to believe what she’d just done.

The guy raised his hands in a calming gesture, flashing a small, understanding smile.

“No worries,” he laughed, making sure it wasn’t broken. “Goddamn, girl, you’re strong.” 

“What the hell, Abby?” the boyfriend-in-question hissed, starring daggers at her. 

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Abby lamely explained, embarrassed. 

Zoey, that witch, just laughed under her nose at Mira’s misery. 

“Wait, seriously, dude, that was so not cool, let me buy you a drink-” she stammered, even more embarrassed. 

“No, no, it’s fine-hold on.” He suddenly released his nose and stared at her. “Are you Mira? That Mira? From Huntrix?”

“What? No way-” another guy cut in, before nodding silently, starstrucked.

Great, as if that night wasn’t bad enough. Ugh, fans.

Mira and Zoey exchanged nervous glances. Thankfully, the crowd’s noise returned after the tense silence that followed the punch. 

But the seconds dragged on until Zoey suddenly shrieked beside her, “You’re from Saja Boys!” 

Mira blinked, completely lost. How was that even possible? And after a moment it hit her. Those two were indeed those two pink haired losers from that wretched boyband. More handsome than on the covers of magazines, but Mira pretended not to think about it. 

The four of them stared at eathother, not knowing how to behave. 

“Uhm,” Mira started. “So… Can I get you that drink?” 

That broke the spell and the guy chuckled somehow switching from confused to flirty. Great, another too self-assured, muscular man in her life. “Sure, Abby, by the way,” he gave her a hand to shake after she said her name, then did the same with Zoey. “And this is-”

“-Romance,” Zoey finished, giggling a little drunk. “Yeah, I’ve been following you guys since your debut, so like a week but yeah, you’re great,” she admitted, somewhat shyly. 

Mira stared at her friend, her level of social anxiety reacher over the norm. “So, that drink-”

“You girls wanna join us? We’re here with the full team and-”

“No,” Mira cut in before he finished. “Nope, we’re already leaving.”

“But-” Zoey started, but Mira shushed her.

“Nuh-uh. We have a tight schedule, maybe next time-” 

“C’mon, one drink,” Abby smiled smugly. “You own me for my nose.” 

Mira was on her way to the main hall of the awards when a quiet whistle made her cheeks burn. She spun around, disgusted by the objectification, already preparing to snap at whatever sleazy reporter dared-

It was Romance.

She haven’t seen him and Abby after Seoul Dome. Whatever happened there broke Rumi’s heart and all the good relation between the groups disappeared. 

“A back like yours could kill, doll,” he said with a grin, nodding at her bare spine and the way her toned shoulders shimmered under the lights.

“A shame it doesn’t, you’d be dead,” she shot back, already turning away. “I don’t have time for this-”

“Have you seen Jinu?”

She paused mid-step, one heel clicking to a stop. “Why?”

“I was just looking for him,” he said with an easy shrug. “He went for a breather and probably got lost.”

“Such a shame,” she said with fake sadness, fixing her long dress. “You should do the same.” She rolled her eyes and herself to leave him there, only to crash into Abby’s chest. Straight with her nose. “Shit-” she hissed grabbing the bridge of it.

“You keep falling into me-” Abby mused smugly, stabilising her by her shoulders. 

“Shut up, at least we’re even,” she let out a dry laugh. “Look,” she turned to face Romance. “Now you can get lost together,” she blinked with fake innocence. “How nice.” 

And then another whistle hit her ears. “Goddamn, gorgeous, this back of yours-”

“One more word Abby, I’m going to break your nose for real-”

It was fine. Totally fine.

At least, that’s what Mira kept telling herself, on repeat, like a broken lyric, through the last thirty drawn-out minutes of this fan signing. And then she broke her pen.

The crowd buzzed with excitement, a sea of bright eyes and outstretched hands. Cameras flashed, fans squealed, the table was stacked with pens and glossy photos.

Everything was perfect.

Except her.

There she sat, right in the middle, surrounded by smiles she couldn’t quite return.

“We keep meeting like this.” Romance’s arm rested lightly on the back of her chair, nothing unusual, nothing meant by it. Just a casual, comfortable gesture for the cameras.

And Abby, ever composed, gave polite nods and soft smiles to the fans, but every now and then, Mira could feel his gaze flick toward her. Not harsh. Not cold. Just… noticing.

Too much noticing.

She laughed when someone said something funny. She signed her name with steady hands. She posed when the flashes went off. But inside, she felt like she was coming undone in slow motion.

Her heart wouldn’t slow down. Her skin felt too tight. The air felt too thin between them.

No one else noticed a thing.

And still, she kept the mantra running through her head

It could be worse. Of course it could. She knew that.

She’d been telling herself that for the past hour, like it was some kind of comfort.

And yet, here she was, leaning forward just enough to catch a glimpse of Zoey and Rumi across the venue.

Zoey, the ever-charming rapper of Huntrix, was busy smiling like some dreamy rom-com lead at Mystery, who, by the look of him, was two seconds from forgetting his own name.

And Rumi? Don’t even get her started. She was practically melted into Jinu’s side, looking like she’d confused a fan signing event with a damn honeymoon.

Mira’s throat tightened.

Her fingers curled under the table.

It was a public space. Cameras everywhere. Fans practically stacked on top of each other. And yet there they were, playing house in front of an audience like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Disgusting.

No, what was disgusting was how it made her feel. That twist in her stomach. The heat rising behind her eyes. The part of her that wanted to look away, and the worse part that couldn’t.

She plastered on a smile, just in case someone was watching.

After all, it could be worse.

She’d known the fake dating stunt would be trouble.

Everything connected to those Saja morons eventually was.

It was all fun and games now, headlines, fan edits, hearts in the comments, but it never stayed harmless for long.

And poor Rumi…

Yeah, Mira could already see how this would end.

Rumi would be the one left picking up the pieces. The one who actually cared, who always cared too much.

Meanwhile, the Saja boys would move on, business as usual, untouched.

Mira’s jaw tightened. She hated being right about this kind of thing. Years in therapy did that. 

And even those years couldn’t erase her spirit of rivalisation. She reached first, she had the largest signatures, she smiled first, she answered first. The last thing she needed was giving those bastards any satisfaction. They were all too smug already. Annoying her all day, being way too touchy, too talkative. 

“You fuckin’ brush those fingers a meter too close to my back and you’re dead,” Mira hissed under her breath at Romance, who’d just let his hand drift a little too close, tracing the edge of her chair like he was marking territory.

Her eyes burned with warning, sharp enough to cut through the noise.

Then, forcing herself to switch gears, she turned to the nearest fan and plastered on a sweet smile.

“Thanks for coming!”

That sudden shift earned a small, amused laugh from Abby, who caught the exchange and seemed entertained by Mira’s barely concealed edge.

To be honest, she was pretty shocked they picked to sit on either side of her instead of next to each other. From what she’d heard, and seen with her own eyes, those two were basically a public item. And yet here they were, squeezing her in between them like she was some kind of placeholder. It stung more than she wanted to admit.

A fan with a cast on his leg was the last straw.

Without missing a beat, Mira, Romance, and Abby all practically lunged to sign it first, their pens flying like it was some kind of twisted race. Mira’s heart skipped a beat, part frustration, part disbelief.

This wasn’t about the fans anymore. Not really.

“I’ll sign first,” Mira groaned, grabbing the leg.

“No way, I’ll sign first,” Romance grinned, yanking it away with surprising strength.

Mira pulled back, determined. “I’ll sign first.”

Before she could do anything, Abby smirked and swooped in, snatching the leg from both of them. “Nope, I’ll sign first.”

The three of them started shaking the leg between themselves, each repeating the same stubborn line like a challenge:

“I’ll sign first.”

“No, I’ll sign first.”

“I’ll sign first.”

Their polite smiles for the fans barely masked the silent tug-of-war happening right there.

And Mira would’ve won, her pen’s tip was already touching the cast, when she suddenly felt one hand slide onto her shoulder, and the other squeeze her tigh. Romance and Abby were leaning in from either side, both pressing to sign over her.

She froze. The warmth of their touch, the closeness, the silent competition, it all caught her off guard, rooting her in place. 

After all of that was over, she almost threw Zoey’s phone out of their living room when she saw the #miromabby. That dammed hashtag had to come out with that awful photo of the boys leaning over her like a hug. 

“Aww, but you look so cute together…!” Mira thought Zoey really wanted to be flying out next. 

The rooftop bar had been her idea. She just wanted to give the girls a break, to breathe a little, to laugh, to feel alive again. To get away from all the noise, the cameras, the pressure. Just a night to be themselves. Relax, drink, exist without expectations.

That was the plan, anyway.

Mira was fuming. How dared they crash the girls’ night out?

And if that wasn’t bad enough, there she was again, packed in like a sardine, stuck right between Abby and Romance. How did they even get the address? 

She was too sober for this drama. She finished her drink, sighed quietly at the empty glass, wishing it would just refill itself. Maybe she’d have to get another, because clearly, she was going to need it. As she was stuck thinking about it, she noticed the Saja Boys were yet to get their firsts. The shots they brought laid on the table, untouched.

“-ut we drink to that?” Abby cut in, already reaching for the tray of shots, his voice loud over the soft rooftop music.

“Yeah, sure, just wait a sec, okay?” Jinu muttered, barely bothering to hide the irritation in his voice as he rolled his eyes. To promote both our upcoming albums, the labels want Rumi and me to do a song together. Some kind of cliché romance bullshit.” He paused, then flashed them his usual fake smile. “We’ve got two weeks, but I think we’ll kill it.”

“Damn, two weeks?” Zoey gasped. “Good luck with that!”

Mira herself would’ve felt at least a little intimidated by a challenge like that. But, to her surprise, Rumi was… distant. There was something off in her eyes, like she wasn’t fully there. More lethargic than usual. More quiet.

She looked tired, really tired. Not just the I-need-a-nap kind, but the kind that seeped into your bones and didn’t let go.Mira frowned. She tried to shake it off, but the worry lingered. Something wasn’t right. 

Then her attention was pulled away, Zoey had her phone out, angling for a selfie with their side of the table.

At first, Mira assumed she wanted a photo with Mystery and instinctively leaned toward Romance’s side, trying to stay out of frame.

“Aww, c’mon, Mira, just one!” Zoey pleaded, already grinning.

Before she could protest, Romance nudged her, firmly, right into Abby who made sure she didn’t crash her face into his shoulder, opening his arm to embrace her. Zoey said a cheerful cheese, making sure all six of them were squeezed into the shot.

Click. Flash. Too late.

She definitely looked terrible in it.

Terrified, Mira turned to her friend. “Zoey, if you don’t delete it right now-”

“Oops, too late! Already posted!” Zoey sing-songed, not the least bit sorry.

Mira groaned and shot a glance at the fake lovebirds across the table. “What about them?”

“Leave them be,” Abby chuckled. “They haven’t seen each other in a week.”

Mira rolled her eyes, arms crossed tightly over her chest as the boys finished taking their shots.

She could really use that drink.

“So,” Romance drawled, reaching out to toy casually with a strand of her pink hair.

Mira fought the very real urge to bite his hand off. And through all of it, Abby’s arm still rested lightly across the back of her chair, just barely brushing her. Mira pretended not to notice. But she did. God, she did. And it was throwing her off more than she’d ever admit.

“How’s your evening, beautiful?” he asked, voice all fake sweetness.

She huffed, a smile threatening to break through, she crushed it quickly with a grimace.

“It was so nice,” she said dryly, “until some assholes decided to crash it.”

“Oh, really? Douchebags,” he sighed, dramatically, like he wasn’t one of them.

Jinu saved her from the akward small talk. “Anyone want something to drink?”

Thankfully, Abby’s arm left her space and raised to answer the question. 

“Not you, Abby, you can order on your own. I’m asking the girls.”

“Oh! Me!” Zoey called out immediately when she heard the alcohol part.

“What should we bring you?” Romance asked, already starting to stand.

“No, thanks, I can go on my own-”

“C’mon, Mira,” Abby cut in, his arm returning to rest lightly against her back as he gave her a gentle rub. “We’re already making an order.”

She tensed, caught off guard by the familiar touch. It wasn’t unwelcome, exactly, just unexpected.

Still, she let out a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Ugh, fine. The usual. Heavy on lime.”

Now with Rumi’s full attention on her, Mira met her gaze, and for a moment, the noise around them faded. They exchanged a silent conversation, nothing spoken, just the quiet language of eyes. Rumi looked as exhausted as ever, but still, she tried to smile. Tried to play it off like everything was fine. But the effort only made it worse. The smile didn’t reach her eyes, and something about it twisted in Mira’s chest. The worry settled deeper. She hated how helpless it made her feel.

Jinu returned first, drinks in hand, with Romance, Abby, and Baby trailing behind.

“Got the goods,” Romance announced, placing a cocktail in front of Mira with a small flourish. “As requested. Heavy on the lime.” 

Mira raised an eyebrow but accepted it. Margarita. Not what she ordered the last time they’d drunk together that night when they met, but it’d do. “I’ll let it slide if it doesn’t suck.”  She felt a little uneasy with them watching her reaction, but she gave it a try.

It was delicious. She drank half of it in the first sip. “I’ve had better,” she admitted, fluttering her lashes playfully, first at Abby who already had his phone out, then at Romance. “But, not bad.”

They laughed at her mock pout, and soon enough, they all slipped into a comfortable wave of pleasant conversation. 

Her glass was empty before she even realized it. She thought about asking Abby or Romance to bring her another, but then she noticed Rumi hadn’t gotten one. Understanding why, Mira stood up swiftly.

“Rumi, want another tequila?” she asked, already digging for her purse.

Rumi nodded, a relieved smile crossing her face.

Abby looked a bit confused as he set his phone down. “We can bring-”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it,” Mira interrupted firmly.

“Abby, get me one too,” Romance said, turning to his partner.

Abby sighed but followed Mira without another word.

“I do know where the bar is,” she rolled her eyes as he caught up to her.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed, but before she could brush past him, he caught her hand gently when she swayed on her heels. “Hey, careful,” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips, though his grip was steady and protective.

As they waited for their orders, Mira leaned against the bar, glancing at him sideways. He looked a little lost in his own thoughts, if he even had any to get lost in. She could’ve started the conversations. She chose not to. 

When the drinks were ready, Abby took those closest to him, Rumi’s too. Mira quickly snatched it before he close his figers around it. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled before he could comment. “Rumi’s not trusting anyone with her drink.”

He nodded, not really offended. 

The next drink was brought to her by Romance, to Rumi by Zoey. Then the next by Abby to which she made a teasing comment about the lime. And so on and so forth, until noone really cared about the drinks. 

Mira’s back was slowly killing her, the chair wasn’t exactly the most comfortable in the world. Glancing at her phone, she realized they’d been there far longer than she thought. On a whim, she opened Instagram and found the photo Zoey had posted in her close-friends-only story. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. She looked more natural than messy, despite the sudden movement. Romance and Abby looked devilishly at ease, practically squishing her between them. Zoey, right in the middle, looked genuinely happy - something Mira hadn’t seen in a long time, and a little red from the alcohol and a little messed up makeup on her cheek from the smiling. Her arm was wrapped around Mystery, who returned the gesture, maybe even smiling under his bangs.

And Baby - Baby looked just like himself. Mira wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Part of her was relieved, it wasn’t a disaster. But another part just felt… uneasy.

She felt like she was thirdwheeling that photo. 

She looked at their leaders, much to her surprise Rumi was currently all cuddly with Jinu, on his lap. If she wasn’t slowed down by the alcohol, she would’ve gasped out loud. 

But looking closer, Mira realized she was kind of intruding between Abby and Romance. She sneaked a glance their way. They were deep in a lively conversation with Zoey about some American fast food.

She could really go for a McDonald’s right about now.

Both Romance and Abby had their arms draped around the back of her chair, holding hands. At one point, Mira even found herself quietly suggesting they switch places so the two of them could sit next to each other.Romance only laughed, shacking his head. 

Then, almost simultaneously, their arms slid from the back of her chair, Romance’s settling on her shoulder, Abby’s moving to rest lightly at her waist. Mira’s breath caught for a moment, caught between surprise and something else she wasn’t ready to name.

She only needed a few more drinks before she finally let herself relax.

She had the feeling they were sitting much closer than when they first arrived, but it didn’t bother her anymore. By her own choice, she leaned a little closer to Abby, slipping her hand gently around his elbow. The simple contact grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Romance, in turn, leaned in toward her, quietly telling Abby something about the latest drink.

Mira felt a strange mix of comfort and confusion swirling inside her, this closeness, this ease, was new and unsettling, but somehow… welcome.

“They barely had any alcohol,” she commented to Romance. “Mostly ice.” 

Romance rolled his eyes. “But they were tasty.” 

“Sure, and overpriced.” She murmured, tugging his sleeve. 

“Alright,” Rumi announced, voice cool but tired. “Why don’t we call it a night? Let’s head back home.”

Mira felt her little bubble explode.

Seeing Rumi’s mental state felt like a direct threat to Mira’s own sanity. After the tension from the bar finally eased between the three of them, Mira quietly decided to call her therapist, her mind already tangled with the mounting pressure from the label to push out another album. Rumi, however, brushed it off with a tired shrug, convinced it would all pass once the stunt was over.

After leaving her family and moving on as best as she could, the mental help was the only thing keeping her afloat of all the chaos in her life and career. The weight of expectations pressed heavily on Mira’s shoulders. Meanwhile, Rumi’s stubborn denial only deepened the divide between them, Mira reaching out for help, Rumi trying to hold everything together on her own. 

One night, after returning from therapy, Mira was met by Zoey, dressed for a full-on night out, all energy and sparkle. The sight hit Mira like a jolt, a stark contrast to the heaviness she’d been carrying all day.

“Sooo…” Zoey started, her voice sing-song.

“Sooo?” Mira echoed, eyeing her suspiciously.

“How about a girls’ night in?”

“Zoey… I’m exhausted-”

“Pleeease! Rumi’s gone, I’m dying of boredom, and Mystery is busy…”

“Mystery?” Mira blinked, caught off guard. “Since when do you spend time with him?”

“Since… well… we’ve been dating?”

“You what-”

“We can watch Twilight-”

“ZOEY!”

“WHAT?!”

“Why are we yelling?” Mira groaned, facepalming.

“I don’t kn-”

“Wait, wait. What do you mean you’re dating Mystery?”

“Well,” Zoey huffed, folding her arms, “it’s not like you’re exactly innocent. That thing between you, Romance, and Abby-”

“Doesn’t exist,” Mira snapped, “because they have each other.” Mira stared at her, completely floored. “You’re dating Mystery,” she repeated slowly, like the words didn’t make sense in her mouth.

Zoey shrugged, suddenly bashful. “He’s sweet. And funny. And… okay, yeah, weirdly intense sometimes… but I like it.”

Mira opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “I need a drink.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Zoey added quickly. “Unless it is? Are you mad?”

“No!” Mira barked, then winced at her own tone. “No. I’m not mad. I just-Mystery? Really?”

Zoey gave her a knowing look. “We don’t get to choose who we click with.”

Mira scoffed, flopping back into the cushions. “Well, if that’s the case, then explain whatever’s happening with Abby and Romance. Because apparently I’m part of it now?”

Zoey smirked. “You kinda are. And don’t act so surprised, you like the attention.”

Mira didn’t answer. She stared at the ceiling instead, suddenly very aware of the tight twist in her chest.

Zoey’s silence stretched just long enough for Mira to feel the weight of her own words. She rubbed her temple, then muttered under her breath, “This is ridiculous.”

“What is?” Zoey asked gently, though she already knew.

Mira exhaled through her nose, staring hard at the ceiling like it might offer an answer. “I don’t want there to be a ‘thing,’ Zoey. Not with them. Not when they already-” she cut herself off, lips tightening.

Zoey waited.

“They look at each other like they invented gravity,” Mira finally said, her voice quieter. “Like no one else is in the room. And then they look at me like I’m-”

“Important?” Zoey offered.

Mira laughed, sharp and bitter. “Like I’m part of the joke. Or the game. Or the mess. I don’t even know anymore.”

Zoey shifted closer, her voice sincere. “I’ve seen the way they look at you too, Mira. And trust me, it’s not a game. If it were, you’d have lost by now.”

Mira turned to her slowly, something fragile flickering in her eyes. “Then why does it feel like I’m constantly… intruding?”

“Because you’re not used to being wanted like that,” Zoey said softly. “By people who already want each other. But they still want you, Mira. That’s not nothing.”

Mira swallowed, hard. Her chest felt tight again, but this time with something messier than anger, something close to fear. Or maybe hope.

She looked away. “This was supposed to be a girls’ night. I’m ordering snacks, by the way. I’m craving some fastfood.”

Zoey smiled gently. “It still is a girls’ night. But maybe next time, we invite Mystery, Abby, and Romance too.”

“God, no,” Mira groaned, hiding her face in a pillow. “I’d combust.”

“Uh-huh,” Zoey grinned. “From emotional confusion or all the sexual tension?”

“ZOEY.”

Zoey just laughed and reached for the remote. “Twilight it is.”

She woke up to the muted hum of city noise bleeding through the curtains. The room was dim, warm, too still. Mira blinked slowly, disoriented, then let her gaze wander across the unfamiliar ceiling before reality clicked back in.

Right.

The last thing she needed was a hookup. And yet, well, Mira’s whole life had been one long and yet.

That cruel little truth settled in her chest as she stretched beneath the sheets, not caring if the movement stirred either of those idiots beside her. Technically, it wasn’t even a hookup. Nothing happened. No clothes were shed, no limbs tangled with meaning.

She had simply stayed. After the joint concert, after the endless noise and flashing lights and fake smiles, she was too sober to be reckless, too exhausted to pretend she wasn’t spiraling.

Her back was pressed to Abby’s chest, steady breathing against her shoulder. One of his arms was tucked loosely around her waist, not possessive, just… there. Comforting. On her other side, Romance had thrown one leg across the bed in sleep, his hair a chaotic mess against the pillow they somehow ended up sharing. It wasn’t what it looked like. Or maybe it was, Mira thought bitterly, but didn’t dare move. Her mind was a mess, the sharp sting of awareness creeping in, mixing with exhaustion and something else she didn’t want to name. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had just sat down for a minute last night. Then they had put on a movie. Then someone handed her a blanket. Then… She closed her eyes again, breathing slowly through her nose. No one had crossed a line. Technically. Nothing happened. But her heart was still racing. 

Romance mumbled something in his sleep and adjusted, his forehead brushing her arm. Abby shifted too, tightening his arm just slightly before going still again.

They didn’t even have any dates.

But, oh well, Mira was too tired too care. She was comfortable. She leaned over Romance to grab her phone. Without turning on the WiFi she checked the hour. Still early, so she went back to sleep.

They came as a band with Jinu before the Takedown performance, all smiles and easy confidence. Abby squeezed her waist gently, Romance ruffled her hair like always, and before she could say anything, they both leaned in, a kiss on each cheek, casual, sweet. It was so sweet. Too sweet. Her cheeks were on fire under all the fondation. 

And Mira hated how awful it made her feel. She didn’t know why. Couldn’t name the ache that bloomed under her ribs or the tightness curling around her throat. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. Not sadness either. Maybe it was confusion. Or the unbearable weight of something she wasn’t allowed to want. She already tried to work on it, they admitted she was important to her. They wanted her with them. And yet, she didn’t understand how her brain rejected the constant reassurances from her boyfriends. 

She slayed that performance, the choreography created by her was perfect. 

But what Mira remembered most wasn’t the performance, not the lights, not the roar of the crowd, not even the adrenaline.

It was the silence.

The stunned, air-sucked-out-of-the-room kind of silence backstage when Jinu, freshly after the song, still on the stage and still panting from the final chorus, pulled Rumi into a kiss. Right there, in front of everyone. No cue, no warning. Just a sudden, theatrical act of affection that Mira could tell wasn’t in the script.

Rumi barely reacted. Just stood there, eyes wide, body frozen.

And then, somehow, she smiled. A flash of teeth, a soft laugh, a hand on Jinu’s chest like it was all part of the plan.

Only it wasn’t.

Jinu had just told their groups minutes before that the fake relationship storyline was coming to an end. That the labels were shifting directions. That they could finally breathe.

And then he did that?

Mira didn’t know what was worse - the kiss, the timing, or how everyone seemed more shocked by the kiss than by Rumi’s hollow expression afterwards.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not during the cheers, not during the photos, not even hours later when she sat alone in the dressing room replaying it over and over. Something was wrong. And Mira wasn’t sure how much longer Rumi could keep pretending it wasn’t.

Abby and Romance didn’t say much at first. The moment Jinu pulled Rumi into that kiss, they both stilled beside Mira, just enough for her to notice. Romance’s jaw twitched, his usual smirk wiped clean. Abby blinked once, then looked away like the sight stung his eyes. Neither of them clapped. No teasing, no whistles, no jokes. Just… silence.

It was weird. They weren’t the type to stay quiet when drama unfolded. If anything, they usually fed off the chaos. But not this time. Romance leaned closer to Mira, voice low. “That wasn’t part of the plan, right?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Abby muttered something under his breath. Mira didn’t catch all of it, just enough to recognize the sharp edge in his tone. “Stupid move.” Maybe it was about Jinu. Maybe it wasn’t.

But neither of them looked toward Rumi. Not even once. And that silence, their silence, spoke louder than any words.

Mira suddenly realized: they were worried too. And if they were worried… things were worse than she thought.

Chapter Text

She was so starstruck she could only smile, her laughter bubbling up at everything they said, too bright, too easy.

Zoey had always worn her heart on her sleeve.

It was her greatest strength, and her most dangerous flaw. She was the easygoing one, the eternal people-pleaser, always so damn happy with everything. Quick to forgive, quick to laugh, quick to love.

Until the heartbreak hit.

It broke her open in ways she never saw coming. Like the divorce of her parents, it left jagged edges she still didn’t know how to smooth over. She’d sworn she’d change, sworn she’d get better at guarding herself, at not getting swept up in every little wave around her.

And then came Mira, with her coolheaded, unbothered air. Mira, who never seemed to lose her footing.

Zoey laughed now - not because it was funny, but because it was easier. At Mira’s soft mortification, at the muscular guy’s easy charm, at the wide-eyed shock of the other. The whole situation felt absurd. Surreal.

Then came the proposition.

And Zoey was far too drunk to care.

“Zoey.” Mira’s voice was a sharp whisper as they trailed behind the guys toward their table.

“What?” Zoey asked innocently, though her grin gave her away.

“They’re strangers. We are not going to drink with them.”

“C’mon, we’ll just have a nice time,” she whined, tugging on the sleeve of Mira’s dress like a stubborn little sister.

“And then we’re leaving. Watch your glass,” Mira muttered, but she didn’t pull away.

They reached the table. There they were.

The Saja Boys.

Lounging in the plush leather booth, every pair of eyes cutting toward them as they approached.

Zoey’s breath caught. She recognized the other three instantly - curiosity flashing across their faces like a ripple. But her gaze snagged on the figure in the center.

Jinu. Their leader. Sitting like a king in his throne, arms crossed over his chest in quiet authority. The seats to his left lay empty, but to his right, Baby sat with his rainbow-colored drink, straw between his lips, arm draped lazily across the headrest.

And there he was.

Mystery.

A literal one, because Zoey couldn’t figure him out. Couldn’t read the expression behind those blue bangs or the tilt of his head. But there was no denying it-

He was so her type.

With one ear, Zoey heard Abby’s cheerful voice as he introduced them to the team. The Saja Boys’ initial curiosity shifted in an instant, to wide-eyed shock.

Jinu was the only one to speak. He pushed himself up from the booth, offering them a sheepish smile as he reached out to shake their hands. “Sorry, girls… don’t mind those idiots,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

The other two didn’t bother. Baby merely raised his glass in a lazy salute, and Mystery stayed perfectly still, his dark gaze flicking between them, unreadable.

It was clear they couldn’t care less. With Romance and Abby now part of the lodge, there was hardly any space left to fill - physically or otherwise.

Noticing it, Mira was the only one to speak, her tone light but edged with polite firmness.

“Yeah, we can see you guys are busy. We don’t want to intrude on your boys’ night out, so-”

Before Mira could finish, Abby gently tugged her down into the booth beside him. Mystery, without a word, shifted just enough to make room for Zoey, pressing himself into the corner of the leather seat with practiced indifference.

And just like that, the two girls ended up on opposite sides of the booth. The beginning of the conversation was fine—just basic questions about their tour, the usual small talk. Mira kept sending Zoey glances, her eyes silently pleading for backup, for something to steer the talk away.

But then Jinu’s voice cut through the easy chatter. “So… where’s the third? Rumi? Why isn’t she here?”

The question hung heavy in the air.

Mira’s gaze snapped up, sharp and guarded. “None of your business.”

Zoey caught the edge in Mira’s voice and, without missing a beat, jumped in smoothly, “Yeah, not really her vibe.”

The table went quiet again, the tension settling like a weight between them. Romance took the lead, happily picking up some story he’d definitely started before the whole shebang. His voice was easy, confident, filling the space like he owned it. Zoey, feeling a little out of place, fiddled with her straw, twisting it between her fingers. She stole a nervous glance to her right, and froze.

Mystery was staring right at her.

Caught off guard, a flush rose to her cheeks. She cleared her throat awkwardly, then let out a tiny, shy shriek before managing a breathy, “Hi, what’s up?”

And he just… kept staring. 

A little embarrassed, Zoey’s shy smile quickly faded. She clearly misread the vibe. She dropped her gaze, pretending she hadn’t just made a complete fool of herself in front of her crush.

“Aww, c’mon,” Baby teased, nudging Mystery’s shoulder. “You should answer when a pretty girl speaks to you.”

Mystery huffed softly and shifted in his seat, his eyes briefly flicking away before he punched Baby’s shoulder in return, a quiet, measured motion that said little and gave away nothing.

Totally her type. 

She hated waiting for Mira and Rumi. But, as a good friend should, she did. They said they needed to use the bathroom and both disappeared behind the door, leaving her alone. Well, not really.

As Zoey scrolled through her phone, a soft scent caught her attention before she even looked up. Right in front of her was a bouquet of flowers. Slowly, she lifted her chin, and there he was.

Mystery stood just behind the flowers, carefully holding them under her nose.

She made a confused little sound, a bit spooked.

“You really deserved that award, Zoey,” he said quietly.

She hadn’t seen him since Seoul Dome and now, here he was - unexpected and close enough to shake the memories loose. Her mind raced, caught between the warmth of the compliment and the strange, electric silence hanging between them.

Zoey swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her phone. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath.

For a moment, neither of them said anything else. The quiet felt heavy but not uncomfortable, like a fragile bridge waiting to be crossed.

Then she realized she’d messed up and quickly put her phone down, reaching out for the flowers.

“They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to…” Her fingers brushed the petals gently. “How did you even-? You couldn’t possibly think Huntrix would win? I mean, it was a possibility, but you guys… well, I don’t know, I just didn’t expect it. I thought maybe someone else had it in the bag. And now here you are with flowers like it’s some kind of celebration or something…” She trailed off, catching herself mid-ramble. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so much-I mean-”

Mystery listened quietly, his gaze steady but unreadable. When Zoey finally trailed off, he gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

“I like your voice.”

Zoey blinked, surprised by how easy his voice sounded, calm, steady, like a lifeline in the quiet.

“Yeah… it’s been a while since I really talked to you,” she admitted, her voice softening. “I guess I forgot how that feels.”

She glanced down at the flowers again, then back up, meeting his eyes with a shy, uncertain smile.

“I missed you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “We should, maybe, meet up sometime… for old times’ sake? I know the tension between our teams has been… well, pretty rude for a while.

But we could, you know, spend some time. Just the two of us.”

“Sure,” he nodded. “I missed you too.”

Zoey felt her innerself drown in happiness.

“I AM NOT SITTING NEXT TO NO SAJA BOY-” She froze noticing Mystery sitting right next to her. “What’sss up?” she giggled like a teenager joining her palms.

She could swear he smiled at her. Well, Baby definitely laughed at her sudden change of tone, his teasing echoing faintly in the background. All in all, this fan event felt like a win for Zoey.

She was happy, content even, with Mystery’s quiet, steady presence beside her. She signed what she had to, smiled, and exchanged pleasantries with fans, all the while stealing small glances his way.

The strangest part? It felt… natural. Easy. Like it always had between them before everything got so complicated.

They were supposed to have dates, just the two of them. She wondered if he still remembered. If he thought about it too. And though he hadn’t said much, his silence didn’t feel cold. It felt like something unspoken, something waiting.

She threw a quick look at her teammates. Rumi seemed to be doing fine, more than fine, actually. Jinu’s presence appeared to ground her, his calm, steady energy putting her at ease in a way Zoey hadn’t seen in a long time. Anyone watching would think the two were perfectly in sync, but Zoey knew better. Their relationship wasn’t real.

Rumi and Jinu had been close once, almost inseparable, until some falling out months ago had left them barely speaking. And now, thanks to management’s brilliant idea of a PR stunt, they were playing the part of a golden duo. It looked convincing enough, especially the way Jinu leaned slightly toward her when she spoke, like he was quietly anchoring her to the moment. But Zoey could see the cracks if she looked hard enough.

Even knowing it was fake didn’t stop the small, inexplicable pang in her chest. Maybe it was silly, but she couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have someone steady like that beside he, real or not.

Mira, on the other hand… Zoey almost laughed at her pretended misery.

She knew what was really going on. She’d caught more than a few stolen kisses between Mira, Romance, and Abby around four months ago, back before Seoul Dome. Though Mira acted like she hated being the center of their attention now, rolling her eyes, crossing her arms, Zoey wasn’t fooled. She could tell Mira enjoyed their proximity far more than she let on.

Zoey, so lost in her thoughts, didn’t notice a fan standing right in front of her until they cleared their throat.

Startled, she almost jumped in her seat, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“H-Hi there,” she breathed out, trying to regain her composure. “O-kay, what would you like me to sign-”

“Just get it over with,” the girl snapped, slamming a poster onto the table.

Zoey cringed inwardly, her confused smile tightening. She didn’t want to be rude, but the hostility threw her off. “Oh-”

“Get lost.”

Both froze at the sharp, unexpected cut-in. Mystery’s voice was low but lethal, his eyes locked on the fan. Zoey’s eyes widened. The girl stiffened, her bravado faltering as she looked up at Mystery. His expression was unreadable, but his tone had carried enough weight to freeze the air around them.

“What?” the fan muttered, her voice suddenly smaller, unsure.

“Do you understand korean?” His words were calm, too calm, but there was no mistaking the edge of  bark in them.

The fan faltered, then huffed and grabbed her poster off the table, storming off without another word.

Zoey sat frozen, pen still in hand. Her heart pounded against her ribs as her mind scrambled for something, anything, to say.

Did that really just happen?

She risked a glance at Mystery. His gaze was still fixed on the retreating fan, jaw set tight. For someone so quiet, he had a way of filling the room with his presence, like a storm that han’t broken yet.

Zoey swallowed hard, unsure if she should thank him or scold him for stepping in.

“Y-You didn’t have to…” she started weakly, but her voice trailed off under his steady, unreadable stare. “You shouldn’t speak like that to the fans-” she hissed out, confused. 

Zoey’s words caught in her throat when Bobby appeared at her side, concern etched across his face.

“Everything okay over here?” he asked gently, his eyes flicking between Zoey and Mystery, then toward the direction the fan had stormed off.

Zoey managed a weak smile, still gripping her pen a little too tightly. “Y-Yeah… I’m fine. Just… caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Mystery didn’t say a word. He leaned back slightly in his seat, arms folding across his chest, his gaze now fixed somewhere past Bobby. But the tension hadn’t left him, it radiated in the tight line of his jaw, the way his fingers tapped once against his arm before stilling again.

Bobby glanced between them again, clearly sensing the unease. “Alright. Just let me know if you need a break or… anything.”

Zoey nodded quickly. “Thanks, Bobby.” As he walked away, she finally let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, glancing at Mystery. Her voice was softer now, more cautious.

He didn’t look at her right away. “Didn’t like the way she talked to you,” he said simply, his tone flat, but something unreadable flickered in his eyes when they finally met hers.

Zoey fiddled nervously with her pen, biting back the thousand things she wanted to say. The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating.

Finally, she let out a shaky laugh. “Well… that was… intense.” She glanced at him, hoping for even the smallest crack in his stoic exterior. “You know, you didn’t have to go all knight-in-shining-hoodie on me. I’ve survived my fair share of grumpy fans.”

His lips twitched, just barely. Maybe it wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t nothing.

“I didn’t like it,” he said again, voice low, steady.

Zoey blinked, her face warming.

“Yeah… I noticed,” she murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “But, um… thanks. For having my back.”

This time, she thought she saw it, a flicker of softness in his eyes.

Just as the silence between them started to soften, Baby sauntered over, a wide, knowing grin plastered across his face.

“Well, well, look at you two,” he drawled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Getting all quiet and intense over here. Don’t tell me I’m missing something.”

Zoey shot him a half-annoyed, half-amused glare.

“Baby, can’t you see we’re having a moment?”

He just chuckled, unfazed. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

Mystery’s eyes flicked toward Baby, a shadow of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, but he said nothing. Zoey rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. The tension eased, at least for now.

You: So… any plans? 

You: Do you have a rehearsal or sth today? 

You: How are you? 

You: Sorry that should’ve been the first question :(((

Mystery: No. We’re off today. I’m fine, thank you. What about you?

Zoey almost melted over her ipad. 

You: Been better but we’re having a night out with the girls!!! So excited :P 

You: EVEN RUMI’S COMING!!! 

Mystery: Where are you going?

You: To this super private rooftop bar! 

She didn’t expected them to show up. 

Jinu stood just behind Rumi, his tall frame unmistakable. She watched as Rumi laughed, animatedly telling some crazy story from her childhood, completely unaware of the weight Jinu’s presence carried.

Zoey froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart hammered, half with surprise, half with something else she didn’t want to name.

Mystery’s sudden appearance made up for the missed opportunity of the girls’ night. They sat close, their attention narrowing to just each other amid the buzz around them.

“I didn’t think you guys would come. Why?” Zoey asked, curiosity threading her voice.

Mystery’s eyes met hers steadily. “Jinu wanted to.”

“O-kay?” Zoey blinked, a little lost but choosing to accept the vague answer.

“Anyway,” she said, shifting in her seat.

“-To promote both our upcoming albums, the labels want Rumi and me to do a song together. Some kind of cliché romance bullshit.” Jinu paused, then flashed them his usual fake smile. “We’ve got two weeks, but I think we’ll kill it.”

“Damn, two weeks?” Zoey gasped. “Good luck with that!”

She played with her straw, suddenly struck by a genius idea. Pulling out her phone, she angled it for a selfie with their side of the table. Mystery sat close beside her, his arm around her waist while she casually draped her arm over his shoulder.

Zoey caught Mira’s attempt to dodge the photo, hiding into Romance’s shoulder. “Aww, c’mon, just one!” Zoey pleaded, already grinning. She counted heads carefully, making sure all six of them fit in the frame. “Cheese!”

Terrified, Mira turned to her. “Zoey, if you don’t delete it right now-”

“Oops, too late! Already posted!” Zoey sang, not the least bit sorry. She clicked the post button on her private story. Of course, she remembered to tag all of them. 

She shook her head lightly, catching sight of Mira across the table. Mira was panicking way too much, as if the world might end over a single photo. Meanwhile, she looked fabulous with her boys practically swanned all over her. She was a literal model, and Zoey couldn’t help but grin at how completely oblivious Mira seemed to her own effect.

Happy as ever, Zoey turned to Mystery, who was still holding her, his fingers playing with the edge of her crop top.

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use another drink-”

“Anyone want something to drink? Not you, Abby, you can order on your own. I’m asking the girls.”

“Oh! Me!” Zoey called out immediately at the mention of alcohol.

Jinu smiled. “At least one person here trusts me.”

Zoey glanced back at Mystery just in time to catch what looked like a hint of sulking in his expression. It made her chest squeeze, he was so unreadable most of the time, but right now she swore he seemed… left out?

Without thinking, she reached down, giving his knee a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, don’t sulk. I’ll share mine with you if you want,” she said softly, offering him a little grin.

“Aw, it’s okay,” Baby chuckled, sliding beside Mystery and giving his back a friendly pat. “I’ll bring you one too.”

Mystery didn’t respond. His jaw stayed tight, his gaze still fixed somewhere beyond the table. Zoey’s hand lingered on his knee a moment longer before she slowly drew it back.

God, did I just make it worse? she thought, her heart doing nervous flips.

Maybe he’s annoyed. Or maybe he’s just tired. Or maybe-ugh, why do I always say the wrong thing?

She busied herself with her straw, forcing a little smile like she hadn’t just gone full emotional spiral over two seconds of silence. She stayed there, staring down at the ice in her glass, feeling his warmth still beside her but suddenly unsure if she should lean into it again. The silence between them wasn’t loud, not really, but it wrapped around her like a tight thread she didn’t dare pull.

Then Jinu came back with Baby, Abby and Romance, carrying their drinks. Zoey accepted hers with a grateful smile, letting the cold glass give her something, anything, to focus on. At least now there was a distraction, something to busy her hands and break the weight of the silence.

She stirred the ice with her straw, trying to ignore the nervous energy buzzing in her chest.

And then she felt it, warm fingers brushing against her knee before settling there, light but steady.

Her breath caught. Slowly, she glanced sideways. Mystery wasn’t looking at her, his eyes fixed over her on Romance’s head, but his hand stayed firm against her leg like it had always been meant to be there.

Zoey’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, the tight knot in her chest loosening. A small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips as she placed her hand over his for a moment, giving a light squeeze before retreating to her drink.

Maybe she hadn’t ruined everything after all.

The night went on, and Zoey kept drinking, enough that her cheeks stayed warm, not from the wind, and her grin came easier. At one point she even slipped away to the bar herself, coming back proudly with drinks for her and Rumi. Now, sunk deeper into the chair, she was in her even more easygoing state. She leaned forward animatedly, launching into a long discussion with Mira’s boys about Wendy’s of all things.

“You don’t understand,” she said, eyes wide like she was sharing a sacred secret. “The chicken nuggets? Life-changing. The Frosty? It’s, like, a dessert and a drink. You have to dip the fries in it-it sounds weird but trust me.”

Baby snorted. “That actually sounds cursed.”

“Nooo, it’s perfection,” Zoey countered, wagging her finger.

She glanced over and saw Mira, surprisingly comfortable nestled between Abby and Romance, their easy closeness softening the edges of the night.

Then her gaze landed on Mystery, and she beamed, clutching at his hand, the one still resting comfortably on her knee. Without thinking, she twined her fingers through his and gave a soft squeeze.

“You should totally come to the States to try it!” she said brightly, her words slurring just slightly with her growing tipsiness. “I’ll take you. We’ll make a whole trip out of it. Road trip! Fast food tour! Just you and me.” Her cheeks burned as the last part tumbled out, but she didn’t take it back.

Zoey didn’t notice how her words slowed down, her laughter softening as the minutes passed. The group’s chatter carried on around her, Baby teasing her about turning Mystery into an American fast-food addict, Romance chiming in with exaggerated impressions of American drive-thrus, but Zoey had started to tune it all out.

Her focus stayed on the warm weight of Mystery’s hand in hers, his thumb absently brushing her knuckles. She leaned her head slightly to the side, resting it against the back of the booth with a faint sigh. The earlier excitement in her voice had faded into something quieter, almost dreamy.

“You’d like it,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “The road trip… just driving… no cameras, no noise.”

Mystery glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable as always. But his fingers tightened slightly around hers, grounding her. Zoey smiled, her eyelids fluttering as she took another sip of her drink. She felt safe in the little bubble they’d created, just the two of them despite the others being right there.

For once, silence didn’t feel awkward. It felt like… enough.

Rumi’s harsh goodbye hurt.

The morning sun was merciless.

Zoey groaned, pulling the covers over her head as her temples throbbed in protest. Her mouth felt dry, her body heavy and achy from the night before. She wasn’t sure how much she drank, but judging by the hangover trying to murder her, it was too much.

With a reluctant sigh, she rolled over and grabbed her phone from the nightstand. The screen nearly blinded her, but muscle memory had her unlocking it anyway. Notifications. So many notifications.

She froze. Mystery’s username. Still foggy-headed, she tapped through. It wasn’t a message, it was his private story. He’d posted last night.

Zoey’s stomach flipped as the photo loaded. It was her. A candid of her mid-laugh, her flushed cheeks and bright eyes obvious even in the dim bar lighting. She didn’t even remember him taking it. But there it was, her face, with a glowing heart emoji floating delicately above her head.

Her breath caught.

As if on cue, memories of the night flickered back, he drinks, the laughter, Mystery’s thigh pressed warm against hers, his arm once on her knee once around her chair like it belonged there.

Zoey let the phone drop onto her chest, burying her face into her pillow.

“Oh my god…” she whispered in english, half mortified, half giddy.

She wasn’t sure if the pounding in her chest was from the hangover or something else entirely.

“But you have to admit, it was kinda suspicious! Rumi acted like she was burnt,” Zoey complained, sinking deeper into his chest as she sat between his bent legs on her bed, her back pressed against him. The warmth of his body settled around her, grounding her in the moment.

His arms wrapped around her waist, fingers tracing slow, comforting circles over her stomach. She was wrapped in an oversized teddy bear-themed pajama top that hung loosely like a soft, cozy dress around her. Mystery wore snug pants that fit him just right, the perfect contrast to her relaxed look.

“So, obviously, we asked her about it. And, welp, turns out Jinu’s innocent,” she said softly, leaning back slightly into him.

He chuckled low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest against her back. She shifted slightly, feeling the steady beat of his heart through his chest against her back. The room wasn’t quiet, she kept her playlist play softly in the background from the fancy speakers.

“Jinu isn’t like that,” he murmured, tightening his hold just a bit, as if to remind her he was there.

Zoey closed her eyes for a moment, letting the comfort of his presence wash over her. “Yeah,” she whispered. “But it’s nice knowing there’s still some truth in the mess.” 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and she smiled against him, feeling safer than she had in a long time.

“Thanks for sticking around,” she said softly. “I can’t wait for our joint concert,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but filled with excitement. “It’ll be so nice having you next to me on stage, even if it’s only for a minute between performances. I mean, it’s crazy how things worked out, right? After all the mess and drama, here we are, finally sharing the spotlight. Sometimes I wonder if anyone else even notices how weirdly perfect this is. And who knows? Maybe this time, things will be different. Maybe we’ll actually get to enjoy it, without all the tension and the games. I really hope so.”

She dared to lift her chin, turning just enough to see him leaning against her headboard, his eyes, now fully visible with her hair band keeping his bangs away, locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. Slowly, he leaned forward, closing the distance, and their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened with the promise of something more.

Zoey melted into the warmth of it, her hand finding his cheek as they shared that quiet, electric moment.

Sadly, she had to pull away, shrinking back against his chest. “I need to finish the lyrics today,” she murmured, her voice soft but resolute. He said nothing, simply wrapped his arms around her a little tighter, offering silent support.

She reached for her notebook and pen, softly humming a tune, letting the melody carry her as she searched for the right rhymes. Mystery sometimes joined her, creating a harmony. The gentle rhythm flowed through her, weaving words and emotions together, each line a step closer to the song she needed to finish. Behind her, Mystery gently pressed his face into the back of her neck, his warm breath a quiet comfort as she worked.

His presence behind her was steady and calm, a quiet support as she poured herself into the music.

“What the actual fuck-” Baby let out a low whistle, grinning. “I don’t think that’s the official choreography.”

Zoey’s head snapped toward him, her eyes blazing like she could set him on fire. But Mystery’s arms were wrapped tight around her waist, keeping her pinned firmly in his lap. If not for his hold, she would’ve been on her feet already, ready to launch her pen straight at Baby’s smug face.

She turned her gaze to Mystery instead, searching his eyes beneath the curtain of his hair. He looked just as lost as she felt, his brows faintly drawn, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instinctively, he leaned forward, hiding his face in the curve of her neck.

Zoey’s hands moved on their own, running slowly over his shoulders and down his spine in soothing circles. Her mind spun wildly, confusion tangling with the simmering stress over Rumi and the sharp, hot rage still burning in her chest for Jinu.

Her eyes flicked to Mira’s across the room. The pinknette was pressed close to Abby’s side, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders, while Romance lounged nearby, watching the standing pair on stage with a rare seriousness.

Their silent exchange lasted only a moment, but it spoke volumes. Disgust twisted across Mira’s face, her glare sharp and unyielding. Zoey gave the slightest nod, enough for Mira to know she felt the same.

Chapter Text

Rumi’s fingers drifted lazily through the cat’s fur, the soft rise and fall of its purr filling the quiet.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asked, eyes flicking to Jinu. He was hunched over his sketchpad. 

The Seoul Dome was no joke. 

“No,” he said with a crooked grin, a smug little chuckle slipping out. “Why would I be? We’re solid. I just hope Abby doesn’t forget his lines this time.”

Rumi rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “At least Romance saved him last time. You should’ve seen Mira’s face, she was so done with him.”

Jinu let out a low laugh without looking up from his sketchpad.

“After all the blood, sweat, and choreography Mira put us through? I swear, she was one second away from homicide.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “Especially since he and Romance were too busy undressing her with their eyes during rehearsal.” Jinu rolled his eyes. “She was always so pissed about that.”

Rumi’s cheeks flushed at the implication, and she glanced away, biting her lip.

“C’mon, Mira’s way too stuck-up to actually go for it-”

Jinu cut her off, grinning.

“You’ve never caught them making out?” He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Rumi, how do you live in this sweet state of obliviousness?”

Rumi shrugged, unable to meet his eyes. “Well, back then she didn’t even yell.” She glanced up briefly. “That’s how you know it’s bad.”

“Oh no,” Jinu said mock-seriously, eyes gleaming. “The silent Mira. Terrifying. For Abby and Romance, definitely. They keep their saliva hanging each time they see her.”

“She can be-don’t laugh!”

“I’m not. I’m absolutely terrified. Of our dear Mira.”

Rumi bumped her shoulder into his, grinning. He nudged her back, just a little harder, and her laugh slipped out. Thankfully, the cat didn’t mind, changing his position and curling up contentedly at the foot of the bed as Jinu grew bolder. His hands slid to her waist, and before she could protest, his fingers dug in, mercilessly tickling her.

Her spine curled instinctively, a loud yelp tearing out of her as she dissolved into helpless laughter. She thrashed, kicking at the blankets, tears streaking her flushed cheeks. “Jinu! Stop! I’m dying…”

“Say you’re more scared of me than Mira,” he teased, grinning down at her, fingers still relentless.

“Never-!” she gasped between hiccupy laughs.

“Wrong answer.”

The cat flicked its tail and hopped off the bed in a huff. Rumi tried to roll away, but Jinu caught her wrist and tugged her back, softly this time. She landed half under him, her laughter fading into shaky breaths.

Their faces hovered close, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek. His hands were still at her waist, no longer tickling but resting there lightly, as if unsure whether to let go.

“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, voice soft but still teasing.

“So I’ve been told,” he murmured back, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

For a beat, neither moved. The room was quiet but for their uneven breaths, the mattress dipping slightly under their weight. 

Then Rumi gave him a firm shove, sending him flopping onto his side. “You’re a demon.”

Jinu laughed, arms spread across the bed in mock surrender. “Guilty as charged.”

Rumi pushed at his chest again, but this time Jinu caught her wrists and in one quick movement rolled them over. She let out a startled laugh as she ended up straddling his waist, hands planted on his chest for balance.

“Unfair,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Life’s unfair,” he shot back, smirking.

But then her gaze flicked to the sketchpad lying just beside them. With a mischievous grin, she leaned over and snatched it up.

“A magpie? With three eyes?” she said, laughing. “Why on earth would a bird need a hat?”

Jinu propped himself up on his elbows, watching her with a lazy grin. “Funny story. I once made a hat for Derpy. Looked classy. But a magpie snatched it right off her head like some tiny thief.”

Rumi gasped dramatically. “No. Way.”

“Yes way. So I decided that particular magpie must be a demon in disguise. Hence-” he gestured to the sketch, “-the three eyes. The hat’s a trophy.”

Rumi tried to hold in her laugh but failed, clutching her stomach. “You’re unwell.”

“And yet, you’re sitting on me.”

She froze for half a second at the realization, cheeks warming slightly. But Jinu only grinned wider, reaching for his pencil. “Stay there. You’re inspiring me.”

“What, so you can draw me as another demon bird?”

“No,” he said matter-of-factly, already sketching. “Something worse.”

Jinu stayed propped up on his elbows, pencil scratching against the page as Rumi tried to crane her neck and peek.

“Let me see.” She leaned forward, but he tilted the sketchpad away.

“Patience,” he murmured, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Good.”

He sketched for a few more minutes, utterly focused, eyes flicking between her and the page. The sound of the pencil moving was maddening. Rumi squirmed in his lap, heat prickling at her face.

“Okay, seriously,” she said, cheeks puffing. “What are you drawing? Let me-” She lunged for the pad, but he twisted, keeping it out of reach.

“Nope.”

“Jinu.”

She planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved, trying to wrestle the sketchpad away. To her credit, she was stronger than she looked, forcing him down against the mattress with a surprised laugh.

“Wow,” he teased breathlessly. “Didn’t know you were hiding muscles under all that sarcasm.”

“Shut up.” She straddled his waist again, gripping his wrists and pinning them down, or trying to. Jinu easily flipped their hands, catching both of hers in one of his, holding them above her head.

“Hey! That’s cheating.”

“Being stronger isn’t cheating,” he said smugly, leaning in close enough for her breath to hitch. “It’s genetics.”

But then her eyes flicked down and she froze.

On the page, he had drawn her. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, hair tumbling over her shoulders, wearing little more than a loosely draped sheet. But it wasn’t suggestive, not exactly. He had drawn her scars, the ones she usually hid without thinking. Except here, they weren’t raw or red or ugly. He’d shaded them in soft violets and lavender tones, delicate as flower petals. Around her, scattered on the page, were colored pencils in those same hues.

Her breath caught.

“...You-”

Jinu’s grin faded slightly. “They reminded me of wisteria,” he said quietly. “I thought… it suited you.”

Rumi’s face tightened, eyes narrowing as she yanked the sketchpad back.

“Why the hell did you draw my scars?” she demanded, voice low and sharp.

Jinu blinked, caught off guard. “I… I thought-”

“No. Just no.” She shook her head, heart pounding. “Those aren’t some quirky detail for your silly demon bird story. They’re mine. And I don’t want them out there.”

“They’re part of you,” he said quietly, trying to bridge the gap.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I want them drawn for the whole world to see. Especially not colored like some weird art project.”

Jinu’s grin faded. “I was trying to-”

“To what? Make me look like a freak? Because it’s not working.”

She stood abruptly, heat flaring in her chest. “I don’t want you to see me like that. Not like that.”

Jinu stayed silent, the room heavy with everything left unsaid.

Rumi’s eyes flicked down to her exposed stomach and arms beneath the thin straps of her tank top. The bare skin made her feel suddenly raw and vulnerable.

Without thinking, she grabbed the nearby blanket and wrapped it tightly around herself, pulling it up to shield as much as she could.

“I don’t want to be seen like this,” she whispered, voice barely audible, avoiding Jinu’s gaze.

Jinu smiled softly. “How about we take a break? Go out on the balcony for a smoke?” He nodded toward the sliding glass door, his voice light but caring. “Fresh air might do us both some good.”

Rumi hesitated, still clutching the blanket, her fingers tightening around the fabric as if it could shield her from everything. Then, without a word, Jinu peeled off his gray hoodie and draped it gently overhead over her thin tank top, covering her scars. As he pulled the hoodie off, she caught a glimpse of his shirt underneath, a simple Hunterx t-shirt, the logo faded but still bold.

A teasing smile tugged at her lips. “So, you’re really going out in just that?” she joked softly, her eyes sparkling.

Jinu grinned, unfazed. “Yeah, I’m tough like that.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh, feeling the tension between them ease just a little.

The soft gray fabric was warm against her skin, a cozy weight that wrapped around her like a quiet promise. It smelled faintly of him, faint traces of smoke and something else, something familiar and safe.

She glanced up, meeting his eyes, surprised by the gentleness in them. Without a word, she accepted the hoodie, letting the familiar fabric settle around her like a fragile shield.

“Yeah… maybe that’s what I need,” she admitted quietly.

Jinu reached out, helping her up gently, his hand steady and warm. “Come on. No pressure, just a little escape.”

They stepped out onto the balcony together, the cool evening breeze brushing past them, carrying away some of the weight she’d been holding all day. Below, the city lights flickered softly, like tiny promises waiting in the dark.

The days after Free had been a blur.

Rumi shut herself in her room, avoiding everyone as much as possible. She only emerged for rehearsals, her presence quiet and withdrawn, her energy a shadow of its usual self. Even then, she avoided meeting anyone’s eyesespecially Mira’s. Especially Zoey’s. And God, especially if anyone so much as mentioned Free or replayed clips from it on their phones.

When the Saja Boys came over, and they’d been over a lot lately, she made a point of staying in her room. Their laughter and voices drifted up through the floorboards, sharp with inside jokes and warm familiarity. Each time she caught a burst of sound, her stomach tightened. At least Jinu hadn’t been with them. She wasn’t sure she could’ve handled that.

The memory of his lips pressed to hers still burned hot in her mind, looping endlessly no matter how many times she tried to bury it. The weight of his hands, the way her chest had felt too small for her lungs, the terrifying part of her that hadn’t wanted it to end.

She rolled over on her bed and pulled her blanket tight around her shoulders.

It was just for the performance. That’s all. Stop being stupid. But no matter how much she repeated it, her heart didn’t seem to believe her.

She had a feeling the boys didn’t know how to react either.

When Romance and Abby were over one afternoon, they’d taken over the kitchen with Mira. From upstairs, Rumi could hear them, the clink of utensils, the low murmur of conversation, Mira’s occasional sharp laugh cutting through their teasing like a knife. She only meant to grab a glass of water. Just in and out. But as soon as she stepped into the kitchen, the energy shifted.

Mira was standing between the two boys, her hip brushing Abby’s arm as she reached for a ladle, her fingers brushing against Romance’s wrist as she stole a taste from the pot he was stirring. The three of them moved around each other easily, like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Then they noticed her.

Conversation faltered. Romance’s posture straightened from his casual lean against the counter. Abby’s knife slowed on the cutting board, his eyes flicking briefly to her before dropping back down. Mira’s gaze met hers, steady, unreadable.

“Hey,” Romance said after a beat, his voice deliberately light.

“Hi.” Rumi’s reply was soft, almost swallowed by the quiet.

She padded over to the sink, trying to ignore how her bare feet slapped softly against the tile. She filled her glass, willing her hands not to shake.

“You want some bibimbap?” Mira asked suddenly, her tone calm but almost too casual.

Rumi glanced at her. “Oh, no, thanks. I’m not really hungry.”

Mira didn’t press, but she didn’t look away either. “There’s plenty if you change your mind.”

“Thanks,” Rumi murmured, gripping her glass a little tighter.

The silence stretched for another beat before she added, “I’ll… see you guys later…”

“Alright,” Mira said, already turning back to stir the pot, but her voice carried a subtle softness Rumi couldn’t quite place.

She slipped out quickly, and only once her footsteps faded up the stairs did the low hum of conversation resume behind her. Back in her room, she shut the door gently and leaned against it, staring down at the half-full glass in her hands.

They’re acting weird because I’m acting weird, she told herself.

Rumi sat curled up on her bed, the hoodie Jinu had left draped loosely around her shoulders. The glass of water rested untouched on the nightstand. She’d told herself she wasn’t hungry, but now her stomach felt hollow in a way that had nothing to do with food. A knock sounded at her door—gentle, deliberate.

Rumi stiffened. “Yeah?”

“It’s me.” Mira’s voice, even and measured.

Before Rumi could respond, the door cracked open just enough for Mira to slip inside, carrying a steaming bowl in both hands. The scent hit her immediately, sesame oil, gochujang, fried egg.

“I thought you might change your mind,” Mira said simply, setting the bowl and a pair of chopsticks on the nightstand. She didn’t hover, just straightened and gave Rumi a look that felt like a quiet nudge.

Rumi opened her mouth to protest but found no words. She stared at the bowl, the colors of the bibimbap swirling in the warm light.

Mira didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll be downstairs,” she said, turning to leave. But at the door she paused, her hand on the knob. And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her. Rumi sat motionless for a long moment. Then, almost reluctantly, she reached for the bowl. The first bite burned her tongue, but she didn’t care.

Or one other night when Rumi sat quietly on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, but her mind was elsewhere. She barely noticed the sounds coming from the hallway until the front door opened and shut behind two familiar figures.

Zoey and Mystery stepped into the living room, wrapped up in each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Zoey grinned mischievously, leaning in to steal a quick kiss from Mystery’s lips. He chuckled, pulling her closer, and she tucked her hand into the back of his shirt, fingers tracing small circles.

Their laughter and whispers filled the room, bright and careless.

Then they saw her.

Zoey’s smile faltered for a moment as her eyes met Rumi’s, still sitting alone on the couch, her expression quiet but heavy. Mystery noticed too, his grip loosening slightly.

Rumi looked down, blinking back a sudden sting of sadness. She forced a small, tight smile but couldn’t stop the ache curling in her chest.

Zoey cleared her throat, suddenly a little flustered. “Hey, Rumi. Didn’t mean to, you know…” She gestured vaguely to their closeness.

Rumi shook her head softly. “It’s okay.” Her voice was low, barely more than a whisper. “I hope you guys had a good night.”

Zoey exchanged a quick glance with Mystery, then tried again, softer this time. Rumi nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. She turned her gaze back to the flickering TV, but the screen felt colder now.

Days passed like a slow tide.

Rumi checked her phone again and again, hoping for a message from Jinu. Nothing. No texts, no missed calls, no notifications blinking on the screen. The silence grew heavier with each passing hour.

Then, one afternoon, just as she was trying to focus on finishing the drafts of new songs from Zoey, her phone buzzed. She picked it up, heart skipping - but it wasn’t Jinu.

Bobby: Hey, Rumi. We need to finalize the breakup statement. Here’s a draft attached. We’re aiming to publish it next Friday. Let me know if you have any changes.

Rumi stared at the screen, the words blurring before her eyes.

Breakup statement. Next Friday.

She swallowed hard, fingers trembling as she scrolled through the message again, the weight of it settling like a stone in her chest.

Rumi set her phone down slowly, the glow of the screen fading but the heaviness lingering. She stared out the window, watching shadows stretch across the quiet street below. The breakup statement wasn’t just words on a page, it felt like a final closing door, a chapter sealed shut without her real consent.

Her thoughts raced, tangled with memories of laughter, stolen moments, and the kiss that had left everything uncertain. She wanted to text Jinu, to say something, anything, but the fear of silence, or worse, a cold reply, stopped her fingers from moving. Instead, she reached for her headphones and pressed play on a soft melody from Zoey’s latest draft, letting the music fill the empty spaces inside her.

The room felt colder now, but the notes carried a fragile hope, whispering that maybe, somehow, things could still change.

Rumi had never been one to shy away from the spotlight. As part of Huntrix, she was used to the bright lights, the cheers, and the endless scrutiny. But meeting the competition face-to-face was different.

Zoey and Mira had been bragging nonstop about Saja Boys, and after a while, Rumi gave in. They went to one of their concerts, ready to see the boys in action.

The show was electric. From their spot in the crowd, Rumi felt the pulse of the music, the energy crackling in the air. They slipped backstage with special permissions, the thrum of the concert still vibrating in the air. In the crowd of bodies and scattered conversations, Rumi quickly lost sight of Mira and Zoey.

Taking a steadying breath, she pushed forward, weaving through the cluster of people.

Suddenly, she tripped, right into someone solid. Startled, she looked up to find a pair of sharp, dark eyes fixed on her. Rumi’s instinct was to reach out, expecting him to help her steady herself. But instead, he lifted his hand, not toward her, but to adjust the shoulder of his jacket.

His expression unreadable, he said coolly, “Watch where you’re going.”

Before she could respond, he turned and walked away without another word, slipping effortlessly back into the crowd.

Rumi stood frozen, frustration boiling up inside her. How could he be so cold, so dismissive? “Hey! Watch yourself!” she shouted after him, her voice sharp and loud enough to cut through the chatter.

But he didn’t turn back. He kept walking, disappearing into the crowd as if he hadn’t heard a word.

Only then did she realize she didn’t even know who he was. The sting of his rudeness mixed with confusion, who was that guy?

Just as the crowd started to swallow him whole, Mira and Zoey finally spotted Rumi standing alone, her arms crossed and a frown still lingering on her face.

“Rumi! There you are,” Zoey called out, weaving through the throng to reach her.

Mira followed, her eyes sharp but gentle. “We were worried you got lost.”

Rumi managed a small, frustrated smile. “I’m fine. Just bumped into some… guy. Total jerk.”

“So not cool,” Mira agreed. “C’mon, let’s go.” She took he shoulder and lead in the same direction that the asshole went. 

The girls moved confidently toward the dressing rooms, slipping inside as if they belonged there. Rumi followed behind, her steps hesitant, still shaken from the earlier encounter. As they entered, Rumi offered a quiet, awkward “Hi” to the room, her voice barely above the hum of conversation.

Then her eyes landed on the same guy who had bumped into her moments ago.

He looked up from where he was sitting, a calm expression on his face, and their gazes locked again. This time, recognition flickered between them, though the tension remained thick in the air. Rumi swallowed hard, unsure if she should speak or look away.

Mira moved straight to the left side of the room where two pink haired guys lounged comfortably on the couch, joining them on one end.

“Everyone,” Zoey said brightly, turning toward them, “this is Rumi, our leader.”

Rumi gave a small, polite nod as Zoey continued, “Rumi, meet Baby.” The boy closest to them gave a casual wave. Then Zoey began gesturing around the room, introducing each one with ease: “Mystery, Abby, Romance, and Jinu.”

Her eyes flicked to Jinu as she nodded in his direction, the same guy who had been staring at Rumi with that unreadable, almost strange expression. Rumi’s heart skipped a beat at the silent exchange, caught in the swirl of introductions and lingering glances.

“This show was amazing,” Zoey said, settling onto a pouf chair beside Mystery. She giggled softly. “Congrats, guys.”

“Hm,” Mira groaned, stretching her arm over the back of the couch behind Romance. “It was… above average, but yeah, nice one.”

Rumi opened her mouth to say something but found herself frozen, standing awkwardly by the entrance.

After a moment, Jinu stood up quietly and, without a word, slid his chair toward her, silently offering the seat. Jinu’s gesture caught Rumi off guard. She hesitated a moment, then nodded, stepping forward to take the chair. As she settled in, the room’s buzz felt a little less intimidating. The boys glanced her way, some with curious smiles, others with thoughtful expressions.

Abby leaned back, eyes sparkling. “So, Rumi, what’s it like leading Huntrix? Must be a lot of pressure.”

Rumi bit her lip, then shrugged. “It’s… challenging, but worth it. We’re all really passionate about the music.”

Romance grinned, leaning forward. “Sounds like you’ve got the fire. We’ll see how you handle the stage next time.”

Abby smirked. “Yeah, competition’s good. Keeps us sharp.”

Jinu watched her quietly, his gaze steady and unreadable. He leaned agains the cabinet next to her. 

The conversation eased, laughter and teasing threading between the introductions. Rumi found herself relaxing, the tension slowly melting away.

Zoey nudged her playfully. “You boys should join us for rehearsal sometime - see what you’re really made of.”

Mira gave a smirk. “Just don’t expect us to go easy on you.”

Jinu finally spoke, his voice low but clear. “If you ever want some real competition, I’m here.”

Rumi caught the challenge in his tone and smiled, a genuine, small smile that surprised even her.

“You want us to join the Pride or something?” Rumi asked, arching an eyebrow.

Her question sparked laughter around the room, some light chuckles, even a snort from Jinu.

“Sure,” Jinu said with a grin, “a lioness like yourself-”

He didn’t finish the sentence. His arm slipped as he casually leaned on the cabinet door, and he lost his balance. In a sudden movement, he grabbed the makeup table to steady himself, rattling the bottles and brushes.

“Oh, jeez,” he hissed, clearly shaken by the stumble.

The room filled with teasing laughter as Jinu straightened up, still looking a bit shocked.

Jinu took a deep breath, trying to shake off the surprise. “Guess I’m not as steady as I thought,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rumi smiled, sensing the rare crack in his cool demeanor. “Don’t worry, we all have our moments.”

Mira rolled her eyes playfully. “Speak for yourself. I’ve seen you trip over nothing more times than I can count.”

Romance chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re a danger zone, Jinu.”

Jinu shot them all a mock glare but there was warmth beneath it. The tension eased further, and for a moment, the group just relaxed together.

Zoey nudged Rumi. “See? We’re all just humans here.”

Rumi laughed softly, feeling more at ease than she had all night.

By Thursday evening, Rumi finally decided to leave her room. Mira and Zoey had both warned her - and invited her - that their boyfriends were coming over for a Netflix DMC series marathon. After an internal battle, she gave in and decided to join them. Slipping quietly into the living room, she paused at the doorway. The soft glow of the TV lit up the space, throwing flickering shadows over the group already settled in.

Mira was leaning against Romance, who was half-lounging on Abby on one side of the couch. Zoey and Mystery sat on the other end, their heads resting on each other’s shoulders as they scrolled through the Netflix menu. The cozy closeness of the scene tugged at something in Rumi’s chest. For a split second, she debated retreating back to her room.

But Zoey spotted her and grinned. “Hey, you made it! Come sit.”

Mira lifted her head just enough to give a small wave. “We saved you a spot. Don’t make it awkward, come on.”

Rumi swallowed her hesitation and stepped fully into the room, the warmth of their laughter and quiet chatter drawing her in.

Rumi’s fingers tightened around the hem of her sweatshirt as the door creaked open again.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jinu’s voice came casually. “Someone couldn’t decide which snacks to bring.”

Baby strolled in behind him, arms full of soda bottles and a bag of candy dangling from his wrist. “Don’t blame me, I was the one actually making sure we had options.”

The room shifted instantly. Zoey straightened, her lips parting in surprise. Mira blinked, her arm slipping from behind Romance as she sat up. Clearly, neither of them had expected the two extra guests.

Rumi’s eyes darted to her friends, a silent accusation burning in her gaze. You didn’t warn me.

Zoey gave her a helpless look, apologetic, even. Mira grimaced faintly and looked away as if suddenly invested in straightening the blanket draped over her legs.

Meanwhile, Baby plopped down next to Abby with a grin. “Movie night, huh? Didn’t think I’d get an invite to one of these.”

Jinu stayed by the door for a second, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on Rumi. She felt pinned to the spot under his gaze, heat prickling at the back of her neck.

“You’re here,” he said. No warmth, but no edge either. Just a neutral observation.

Rumi swallowed, forcing a small nod. “Yeah. They… invited me. I live here too.”

“Good,” he muttered before crossing the room. He settled on the floor, leaning against the couch near Zoey and Mystery’s side. His presence felt heavy in the small space, as if the air itself had tightened.

Rumi’s heart thumped in her ears. She shot another glare at Zoey and Mira, but they were both still staring at Jinu and Baby, genuinely surprised. They didn’t expect them either, Rumi realized with a mix of relief and dread.

The first episode finally started, voices quieting as the opening credits rolled. But Rumi couldn’t focus, not with Jinu sitting so close, not with the weight of unsaid words pressing down between them.

She had hoped, stupidly, against all logic, that he would message her the next day. Maybe to tell her the breakup post was canceled. Maybe to explain. Or even just to say something. But her phone stayed silent. Not a single notification.

She stared at the blank screen for far too long, thumb hovering over Jinu’s name in her contacts. She told herself she wouldn’t text first. That she didn’t care enough to.

You’re fine. It’s better this way. Clean cuts heal faster.

But the words felt hollow.

She tossed the phone aside and pulled her knees up to her chest. If he wasn’t reaching out, then she’d take it as her answer. Whatever they’d had, whatever she thought they had, was over.

And she supposed it was for the best.

It had been only five minutes since she hit post. Since the statement, so carefully worded and impersonal it felt like someone else’s life, was out there for the world to see.

Jinu had posted at the same time. Of course he had. Coordinated, professional. Just like Bobby had suggested.

Her phone buzzed. She snatched it up so fast her chest ached. 

Céline: Wise decision. You’ll thank yourself later.

Rumi stared at the message, her thumb trembling over the keyboard. She couldn’t bring herself to reply. Couldn’t even summon the energy to feel angry or comforted.

Wise.

It felt anything but wise. She set her phone face down on the bed and pressed her palms over her eyes until the black behind her lids swirled with static.

Life went on.

Huntrix released their new album to a storm of praise and excitement. For once, there was no chaos, no boys crowding their apartment, no tense silences. Just the three of them.

They celebrated alone, at last. A proper girls’ night, pizza boxes stacked high, empty wine glasses scattered across the coffee table, laughter so loud it drowned out the music playing in the background.

And for the first time in weeks, Rumi felt genuinely happy. Light. Like she could breathe again.

Jinu: Congratulations. 

She didn’t answer.

And then a message before the next movie night with the other four episodes of Devil May Cry. 

Jinu: I was think about taking Derpy to your place for the evening. Is it okay? 

And he dared to bribe her with a picture. 

You: Sure, it’s your cat.

It left Rumi almost melting, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Derpy’s fur as the cat dozed contentedly across her knees.

The sitting arrangement felt different this time - shifted, adapted to the larger crowd that had taken over the living room. Baby had claimed the armchair like a king on his throne, legs draped lazily over one side. Zoey and Mystery had dragged in a giant pouf chair, sinking into it together in a tangle of limbs and shared laughter.

On the couch, Mira, Abby, and Romance had arranged themselves with practiced ease — Abby in the middle, Mira draped casually across one side while Romance leaned against his shoulder on the other, their affection curling around him like ivy.

Across from them, Rumi and Jinu sat on the second couch. A space lingered between them — small, but deliberate. Derpy’s gentle breathing filled the gap as though the cat had claimed it as neutral territory.

“I left them!” Jinu yelled, his voice cracking with anger.

Rumi flinched, caught off guard by the harshness.

“That’s right. I lied to you,” he sneered, eyes burning. “I only made that deal with the label to save myself from that miserable life.”

She stared at him, stunned, unable to find words.

“You don’t get to lecture me about being selfish,” he spat. “You’re a nepo baby. Without your mother’s fame, you’d be nothing. You’re spoiled, selfish, egotistical, ignorant. A mistake as you once said. And nothing fucking more. Look at yourself and those secrets you keep even from your friends. They just with you because of the fame. Your name gave the power. Without it? All three of you are useless.”

Rumi’s breath hitched, the weight of his words crashing down.

The Idol Awards weren’t as awkward as Rumi had feared. In fact, the night had passed in a glittering blur of flashing lights, polite applause, and backstage congratulations. Huntrix took home the award, again, not exactly a surprise, but still enough to make Zoey beam like the stage lights were for her alone.

Later, still dressed in their elegant eveningwear, both groups found themselves at a private afterparty. The room hummed with music and soft chatter, glasses clinking, laughter echoing off the walls.

“Okay, okay-” Abby wheezed between bouts of laughter, clutching his stomach. “Jinu, my man, you really need to work on your balance. What the hell was that slip on stage? I thought you were about to take a nosedive into the orchestra pit.”

Romance snorted into his drink. Mira was smirking from her perch on the arm of the couch, and even Mystery cracked a rare grin.

“Hey, hey—” Jinu held up his hands, feigning offense, though the corner of his mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. “It was one step. The floor was slippery. Do you know how dangerous award stages are? Death traps. I survived. You’re welcome for the entertainment.”

“Entertainment?” Mira echoed, raising a perfectly arched brow. “You mean the part where half the front row gasped and Zoey nearly dropped her mic?”

Zoey let out a laugh that ended in a snort. “I did not!” she protested, covering her face. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Rumi tried to hold back a grin, curling her fingers around her glass. She didn’t want to contribute, didn’t trust her voice not to sound too soft, too… telling. But then Jinu’s eyes flicked toward her, just a second too long.

“You too?” he asked with mock betrayal, catching the faint smile she was fighting. “I see how it is. All of you against me.”

“I mean…” she started carefully, tilting her head. “You did almost take out the entire Saja Boys choreography line-up with that slip. Would’ve been quite the headline.”

The group erupted, Abby smacking his knee, Mystery letting out a rare low chuckle into Zoey’s neck. Even Jinu cracked and shook his head, laughter escaping.

“Alright, alright,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “You’re all fired as backup dancers. And Rumi? Dead to me.”

Rumi rolled her eyes, but there was a flutter in her chest she couldn’t quite ignore. The laughter slowly faded into a comfortable hum as the afterparty carried on. The others were tangled up in conversations and games, voices rising and falling like music.

Rumi found herself slipping away from the crowd, drawn toward the balcony where the cool night air offered a quiet reprieve. Jinu followed without a word, leaning on the railing beside her.

They stood close, the city lights flickering below them. For a moment, neither spoke.

Finally, Jinu broke the silence with a smirk. “So, Rumi, you’re officially fired from backup dancing. Any protests?”

She rolled her eyes, heart fluttering despite herself. “Not a chance.”

He glanced at her sideways, the teasing in his eyes softening. “You’re good. Better than anyone else I know.”

She looked away, the breeze tugging at her hair. “You’re not so bad yourself, slipping and all.”

He chuckled quietly, then reached out, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. “Guess we’re even.”

The moment lingered, charged and fragile — before the distant laughter from inside pulled them back to the night.

Suddenly, Jinu pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Rumi. She hesitated but eventually accepted, her fingers brushing his as she took one.

“I thought you quit?” he asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

She shrugged, lighting the cigarette with a soft sigh.

“You know who else quit?” Jinu added quietly.

Rumi looked at him, surprised.

“Gwi-Ma. Said he was done with all this. He still sponsor us. Just got another man to take care of the dirty work.”

She exhaled slowly, processing the news. “Is this someone good?”

“Yeah,” he smiled smugly. “The best.” 

She gasped, the dots connecting themselves. “Wait- Bobby?!” 

He chuckled and nodded. 

They both took slow drags, the smoke curling between them in the cool night air.

Jinu exhaled first, eyes fixed on the city lights below. “Feels different now, huh? Like everything’s shifting.”

Rumi nodded, her voice soft. “Yeah. Not just the manager. Everything.”

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the faint sounds from inside—the muffled laughter, music, clinking glasses.

She glanced at him, the glow of the cigarette highlighting his sharp features. “I wasn’t sure if you’d even talk to me tonight.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

Jinu flicked the last of his cigarette away and glanced at Rumi with a mischievous smile.

“Dance with me?” he asked quietly.

Her heart fluttered nervously, but she nodded.

They moved inside as the music slowed to a soft rhythm. Jinu’s hand found her waist, steady and warm. She felt a rush of excitement and something fragile stirring inside her.

Then, with a grin, he spun her gently—light and effortless.

But as she twirled, a sudden, sharp snap echoed beneath her.

Her heel had broken. She stumbled slightly, panic and embarrassment flooding her cheeks.

Jinu caught her immediately, concern flashing in his eyes. “You okay?”

Rumi bit her lip, swallowing the sting of disappointment. “Yeah… just didn’t expect that. Fuck, it was my favourite pair.”

They started to laugh carefree together, as the rush of emotions faded, Rumi started shivering, it was a rather cold night.

Jinu didn’t hesitate. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Rumi’s shoulders. “It’s cold out here.” His voice was calm, but his eyes held a softness she hadn’t seen before.

Before she could say anything, he bent down suddenly and lifted her onto his back with surprising ease.

Rumi’s breath caught, a mixture of shock and something tender fluttering inside her.

“Hey, put me down!” she protested, but her voice was more playful than angry.

Jinu laughed quietly, steadying their steps as he carried her back into the warmth of the party.

The next day, their photos were everywhere - splashed across social media, gossip blogs, and the screens of every phone in town.

All three relationships had gone public.

One shot captured Jinu carrying Rumi piggyback, his jacket wrapped around her like a shield against the cold, both of them laughing softly under the party lights.

Another showed Zoey perched playfully on Mystery’s lap, one leg raised teasingly, while Mystery smiled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

And then there was the trio: Mira standing confidently in the middle, a smug smile playing on her lips; Romance on one side, casually holding a drink and winking at the camera; and Abby leaning into Mira’s side, cheeky grin and tongue sticking out.

The images spread like wildfire, the quiet whispers finally turning into a loud, undeniable truth.

The girls gathered hesitantly in the living room, their phones buzzing nonstop with notifications.

Zoey scrolled through the flood of posts, trying to keep the mood light. “Looks like everyone knows now.”

Mira gave a small frown, her expression serious. “No more hiding, whether we want it or not.”

Rumi sat quietly, her fingers nervously tapping her phone’s screen. She glanced up, eyes shadowed with doubt. “I didn’t expect it to spread this fast… or like this.” Rumi swallowed hard, biting her lip. “After everything with Jinu… I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

Mira’s expression softened, her hand reaching out to squeeze Rumi’s. “We’ve got your back. No matter what.”

Just as the girls sat in uneasy silence, the door burst open and Bobby hurried in, breathing heavily as if he’d been running.

“I’m trying to keep everything under control,” Bobby said urgently, glancing between them. “But I’m worried about you, about how you’re all handling this. Especially you, Rumi.”

Rumi sat quietly, unsure what to think. “Thanks, Bobby… We’re sorry to drag you into this PR mess again.”

He softened, joining his palms as if to calm them all. “Rumi, honey, don’t worry. I’ll handle it. We can reach out to Dispatch, get those articles deleted.”

The reassurance in his voice settled over them like a warm blanket, if only for a moment.

“No, it’s really fine just, so sudden and we’re still waiting for any update from the Saja Boys-”

Rumi stopped looking at her phone. 

I think they got my profile wrong.

Rumi’s gasp turned into a smirk.

“What now?” Mira whined, hiding her face into her hands.  

You: I think we should pose for a new one on our future date.

Jinu: Definitely. Friday?

You: Coex Aquarium?

Jinu: Can’t wait 

“I think we’re good,” she shrugged, ignoring the shock from the rest.

Another notification popped up on all their phones, Jinu had just released the music video for Free, filled with clips of their moments together.

“Guys-” Rumi started, but before she could finish, everyone crowded around her, eyes glued to the screen. The video stitched together public appearances, rehearsals, laughter… even glimpses of their private moments, raw and unguarded.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mira groaned as Zoey and Bobby were too busy gasping.

“Oops…?” Rumi shyly giggled. And then reposted it on her own profile. 

#Rujinucomeback was numer one again.