Chapter Text
KCON 2024
Backstage at the venue was louder than the stage itself.
Staff rushed past with clipboards. Stylists hurried down the hallway pushing racks of clothes. Somewhere nearby, the bass from the stage thumped through the walls, vibrating faintly underfoot.
Enhypen had just finished rehearsal.
Heeseung slipped away from the rest of the members for a moment of quiet, ducking into a side corridor where the chaos dulled into a distant echo.
He leaned back against the wall and exhaled slowly.
Three hours until the performance.
Three hours of waiting.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling absentmindedly, but his mind kept drifting back to the stage, the lights, the choreography, the crowd that would soon fill the arena.
Footsteps echoed suddenly around the corner.
Quick ones.
Before he could move—
Someone turned the corner too fast.
They collided.
"—Sorry!"
They both spoke at the same time.
Heeseung instinctively reached out, steadying her before she lost her balance. His hand closed lightly around her arm.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
He looked up.
And completely lost his train of thought.
The girl in front of him had one hand gripping the front of his sleeve to keep herself steady. Her hair was half pinned back, a few braids escaping around her face. Under the bright hallway lights, her features were almost startling in a way that made him feel, absurdly, like he had never actually looked at anyone before.
His first, involuntary thought was that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Up close like this, with her fingers still curled in his sleeve and her eyes wide and surprised and impossibly warm, it hit him like a punch.
He became very aware of his hand on her arm.
Recognition flickered a second later.
Manon. From Katseye.
He had seen her during rehearsal earlier from across the stage, far away, just another performer in the day's schedule. He hadn't thought much of it then.
He couldn't understand how.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she said, laughing softly as she let go of his sleeve, but not before her fingers lingered for half a second too long.
Her accent curled around the words in a way that made them sound softer. Warmer. It wasn't the American English he'd spent years practising. It was something else. Maybe French underneath it, or something else he couldn't quite place. He found himself paying close attention just to follow it.
He realised he was still holding her arm and let go.
"It's okay," he said, and then caught himself reaching for the next words a half-beat too slowly. "You didn't... run me over. Too badly."
The small pause in the middle. He heard it. He hoped she didn't.
That made her laugh again.
The sound was light, effortless, melodic and it did something ridiculous to his chest.
"I was trying to find the dressing rooms," she admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The small gesture pulled his attention completely. "But I think I just got completely lost."
Focus, he told himself.
"You're not the only one," he said, keeping it simple. "This place is... very big."
He'd wanted to say basically a maze. He'd heard it somewhere before and it was the right phrase. It didn't come in time.
She nodded, but her eyes were still on him.
Really on him.
Like she was studying his face the same way he was desperately trying not to study hers.
"Are you performing tonight too?" she asked.
He blinked, pulling himself back.
Then let out a quiet laugh.
"Yeah. I'm with Enhypen."
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Oh."
Then a slow grin spread across her face and he felt it like a small, embarrassing blow.
"Well now I feel stupid."
"Why?"
"Because I watched your rehearsal earlier."
Heat crawled up the back of his neck.
"You did?"
"Yeah," she said casually, though the corner of her mouth tilted in a way that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. "I was waiting for our stage time and your group went on before us."
Her gaze drifted over him again briefly.
Not subtle at all.
"You're… good."
The pause before the last word made it sound like she had almost said something else entirely.
Heeseung laughed under his breath, if only to give himself something to do.
"Was it—" he started, then rerouted, "—good, at least?"
He'd lost the phrasing for a split second and it had shown.
She tilted her head, pretending to consider.
But her eyes were playful now and looking directly into them felt like a problem he wasn't prepared for.
"I'll decide after the performance."
He understood that perfectly.
"Wow," he said. Then searching, "Very... strict."
"High standards," she said, and smiled.
For a second, the hallway noise faded into the background entirely.
He was aware, in a way he couldn't quite suppress, of how close they were still standing. How he could see the faint detail of her earrings. The way the light caught the line of her jaw.
He had met a lot of people in this industry.
He could not recall a single one who had made him feel like this in the span of three minutes in a side corridor.
And he was acutely, uncomfortably aware that he was standing in front of her with half the vocabulary he actually wanted to use.
A voice suddenly called from further down the hall.
"Manon! Where did you go?"
She turned her head toward the voice.
"Coming!"
Then she looked back at him.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It felt charged. Like something had ignited quietly between them and was still deciding what it wanted to become.
"I should go before they send a search party," she said, stepping back.
"Yes," he said. "Probably."
He'd meant to say probably a good idea. It had come out shorter than intended.
She took another step back.
"Good luck tonight," she said.
Her eyes held his for another second longer than necessary. A second that he was already certain he would replay later.
"You too," he said.
And then, because he wanted to say something more and couldn't find what, he just held her gaze until she turned away.
She jogged down the hallway.
Heeseung stayed where he was.
Watching until she disappeared around the corner.
Only then did he let out a long, slow breath.
His heart was doing something thoroughly inconvenient.
He had performed in front of thousands of people. He had stood in the centre of arenas and felt completely steady. But right now, in an empty side corridor, he felt oddly unsettled. Like the ground had shifted a few degrees without warning.
Then a realisation hit him.
He straightened sharply.
He had forgotten to ask for her number.
The hallway outside the stage buzzed with noise.
Staff shouted cues. Camera operators hurried past with shoulder rigs. The roar of the crowd seeped through the walls like distant thunder, vibrating faintly through the floor.
Enhypen had just finished their performance.
Adrenaline still burned through Heeseung's veins as he followed the other members down the corridor. The stage lights were still burned into his eyes, the echo of thousands of screaming fans still ringing in his ears. His chest heaved. His pulse hadn't settled.
He felt electric.
Jungwon was saying something loudly beside him about the formation in the second song, gesturing with both hands. Sunghoon was laughing at something Jay had said, the two of them falling slightly behind. Niki nearly walked into a camera rig and got grabbed by the collar by Sunoo before he could take anyone out.
Normal post-performance chaos.
Heeseung was smiling at all of it.
And then his steps faltered.
Someone stood a few meters ahead, leaning against the wall with her arms loosely crossed.
Watching.
Manon.
She had changed into her stage outfit, a silver fabric that caught the overhead lights every time she shifted, scattering soft reflections along the wall behind her like scattered stars. Her hair was fully styled now, and she looked polished and performance-ready in a way that somehow made her even more devastating than she had looked in the side corridor just hours ago.
Which he hadn't thought was possible.
He wondered, for a brief moment, if she had been waiting.
Then she noticed he had seen her.
She straightened.
And smiled.
The same slow smile from before, as if she had been saving it.
Something hit him squarely in the chest.
"Heeseung-ah, keep up—"
Jay's hand landed briefly on his shoulder as the others kept moving, and then Jay stopped too.
Followed his line of sight.
A beat of silence.
Then Jay's hand slowly dropped.
"Ah," Jay said simply, in a tone that communicated far too much.
Heeseung ignored him and turned toward her instead.
Each step felt strangely deliberate. Like walking through something thicker than air.
He was dimly aware of Jay drifting back toward Sunghoon behind him, and the low murmur that followed. Something with his name in it, and then a short burst of laughter he chose not to hear.
When he finally reached her, he stopped close enough to be heard over the noise and close enough to notice the faint shimmer of her stage makeup under the lights, the way her eyes caught the overhead glow.
Up close, she was still somehow worse.
Better.
Both.
He opened his mouth.
And immediately felt the familiar, slightly frustrating shift. Like reaching for something on a shelf just above where his hand naturally fell. English required him to slow down, to think a half-second ahead of his words, to choose carefully.
"Well?" he said.
Simple enough.
One eyebrow lifted immediately.
"Well what?"
"You said—" he paused half a beat, finding the phrasing, "—you decide after performance."
He'd dropped the article. He knew it the moment it left his mouth.
She didn't seem to notice. Or if she did, she didn't care.
She tilted her head instead, studying him the way she kept doing. Her gaze moved over the damp hair at his temples, the stage outfit, the flush still high on his cheeks.
"It was…" she began slowly.
He waited.
"…acceptable."
Heeseung let out a quiet laugh and dropped his head slightly.
"Acceptable."
"Maybe even good."
He looked back up at her. "Wow." He searched briefly. "Very... generous."
He'd wanted to say high praise—he'd heard Jay use the phrase before—but it hadn't come fast enough and generous had arrived first, so he used it.
Her composure cracked and the laugh escaped before she could catch it, bright and effortless, cutting clean through the backstage noise.
The sound did something thoroughly unreasonable to him.
From somewhere behind him, Sunoo said, with great sincerity, "Look at his face right now."
And then Jungwon, "Leave him alone."
Heeseung did not turn around.
"I mean it," Manon said, her tone shifting.
The teasing dropped away.
She was looking at him directly now, no performance in her expression.
"You were really good, Heeseung."
His name in her voice. With that accent.
He glanced away and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Thank you," he said, and then, because it felt too short and he wanted to say something more, "It means a lot. Really."
The last word came out slightly more earnest than he intended.
She smiled like she didn't mind.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Stylists, stage managers, and performers moved through the corridor in both directions, buzzing with pre-show energy. The world backstage kept rushing forward at full speed.
But standing here with her, it felt strangely suspended.
"You perform next, right?" he asked.
She nodded. "About twenty minutes."
"Nervous?"
She exhaled slowly, leaning her shoulder back against the wall. "A little."
He studied her face. The composed set of her jaw, the calm in her expression that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You didn't look nervous," he said, then added carefully, "at rehearsal."
"Rehearsal isn't the same as performing in front of thousands of people." Her gaze drifted briefly toward the far end of the corridor, where the crowd noise pulsed like something alive. Then it came back to him. "You looked calm out there."
"I wasn't," he said.
She didn't believe him. He could tell by the slight curve of her mouth.
He wanted to explain it better. The thing that happened in the wings before you walked out, the way your body went cold and then the lights hit and something took over. He knew exactly how he'd express it if he could. In English, the words sat just out of reach.
So instead he said, "You will be fine."
Simple. A little stilted.
But he meant it completely, and maybe that came through anyway, because something in her expression softened.
"Okay," she said quietly.
A voice cracked down the corridor.
"Manon! Two minutes!"
She closed her eyes briefly and exhaled.
"That's my cue."
She pushed off the wall and stepped away from him.
Then stopped.
Turned back.
"You're staying to watch, right?"
The question came out casual.
But the way she looked at him made casual feel like entirely the wrong word.
Heeseung didn't hesitate.
"Of course."
Something crossed her face. Relief, maybe. Or something quieter than that.
"Good."
For a moment, it seemed like she might add something else.
Instead, she held his gaze for one last beat, then turned and walked toward the stage entrance, where the lights were brighter, the noise was louder, and the crowd was already roaring.
Heeseung stayed where he was until she was gone.
Then he turned around.
Six faces looked back at him with varying degrees of barely concealed delight.
Sunoo was beaming like he'd personally arranged the whole thing. Niki had his arms crossed with the self-satisfied expression of someone watching a drama unfold in real time. Jake had his fist pressed against his mouth, clearly losing the battle. Jay wasn't trying at all. Sunghoon looked composed, except for the single raised eyebrow that said everything. And Jungwon was looking at him with an expression that was equal parts fond and completely unsurprised.
Heeseung looked at all of them.
"Not a word."
"I didn't say anything," Sunoo said immediately, in a tone that implied he had said everything.
"She waited for you," Jake offered helpfully. "She was just standing there."
"She was just in the hallway."
"Against the wall," Jay said. "Watching for you."
"You don't know that."
Sunghoon made a quiet sound that was definitely a laugh, immediately suppressed.
Jungwon put a hand on Heeseung's shoulder, steered him gently but firmly down the corridor, and said nothing.
Which was somehow worse than anything the others had said.
"I'm just going to watch," Heeseung said. "That's it."
"Of course," Jungwon said mildly.
"It's nothing."
"Sure."
Heeseung looked at him sideways.
Jungwon's expression remained perfectly neutral.
Behind them, Niki said quietly but with great precision, "He is so gone."
A beat of silence.
"One hundred percent," Jay confirmed.
Heeseung kept walking.
Toward the stage.
Not because he needed to see the performance.
Because she had asked if he would be there.
And there was, he was realising, very little he wouldn't do if she asked.
The crowd was still screaming when the stage lights finally dimmed.
Just offstage, Heeseung stood near a stack of lighting cases, watching the performance unfold in front of him.
Sunghoon had materialised beside him at some point during the second song, arms crossed, watching with the focused expression he got whenever he was studying someone else's choreography. Jay was a few steps behind them both, leaning against the wall with his phone half-raised like he was filming but probably wasn't.
On stage, Katseye hit their final formation under the white-hot lights.
The music cut.
For half a second there was silence.
Then the arena erupted.
Cheers rolled through the venue like thunder as the members bowed quickly before running offstage, laughter and adrenaline trailing behind them.
Backstage exploded into motion.
Managers rushed forward with headsets buzzing. Stylists appeared with towels and water bottles. Someone shouted directions toward the dressing rooms.
Heeseung stepped back against the wall to stay out of the traffic.
"She's good," Sunghoon said simply, beside him.
Heeseung said nothing.
Then he saw her.
Manon came offstage last.
She slowed as she crossed the curtain line, one hand brushing back her hair as she caught her breath. The silver stage outfit still shimmered under the harsh hallway lights, and a faint sheen of sweat traced the line of her collarbone from the performance.
She looked around the crowded corridor.
Searching.
When her eyes landed on him—
Her entire expression changed.
Like a light switching on.
Heeseung felt it somewhere in his sternum.
She walked straight toward him.
Behind him, very quietly, Jay said, "Oh, this is good."
Heeseung ignored him.
"You watched," she said when she reached him, her voice still slightly breathless from the stage.
"I said I would."
A small laugh escaped her as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"So?"
He folded his arms loosely and leaned one shoulder against the wall. Pretending to think.
"I'll decide," he said, "after I... process."
He'd meant to say after I process it. The last word had simply missed the cut.
Her eyes narrowed immediately.
"You're copying me."
"Maybe."
She stepped a little closer.
Not enough to make it obvious.
But enough that he noticed. Enough that he could see the faint shimmer of stage glitter along the edge of her cheekbone, the warmth still radiating from her skin.
"Be honest," she said.
"I am."
"No, you're not."
He couldn't help smiling.
"You were..." he started, then landed on it cleanly, "amazing."
No teasing in his voice. No playful hesitation.
Just the truth, simple enough that he could say it without losing anything on the way.
The words hung in the space between them.
And something shifted.
Her expression softened almost immediately.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
The hallway noise seemed to fade.
People still rushed past. Someone pushed a clothing rack down the corridor. Somewhere behind him Heeseung could hear Sunghoon and Jay talking in low voices and not even slightly pretending to look elsewhere.
But the space between them felt strangely still.
Up close, he noticed details he hadn't seen earlier. The faint rise and fall of her shoulders as she caught her breath. The way her eyes held his just a second longer than normal conversation required.
"You don't even look..." he paused, "...worn out."
"I am," she replied. "I'm just hiding it."
"You are good at that."
She smiled slightly. "Occupational hazard."
They both laughed.
Then a quiet pause settled between them.
Not exactly awkward.
Heavier than that. More aware.
Manon tilted her head a little.
"You really stayed to watch?"
"Yeah."
"You didn't have to."
"I wanted to."
Her gaze dropped for half a second before lifting again.
Something unspoken passed between them in that moment; something neither of them had the words for yet, in any language.
A voice echoed down the hallway.
"Manon! Interview!"
She groaned softly and let her head tip back for a second.
"Already?"
Heeseung chuckled. "Idol life."
She sighed, then looked back at him.
And hesitated.
Just for a moment. Like she was deciding something.
Then she reached into the pocket of her stage jacket and pulled out her phone.
"Give me your number," she said.
He blinked.
"You are very..." he searched for it, "...direct."
"I get lost easily," she replied casually. "This way I can find you again."
That made him laugh. A genuine laugh, not the polite version.
He pulled his own phone out.
Their fingers brushed briefly when she handed hers over.
It lasted less than a second.
But the contact was warm.
And unmistakable.
Neither of them mentioned it.
Then their phones buzzed at the same time.
Contact saved.
She stepped backwards slowly toward the hallway where staff members were waiting impatiently.
"I have to go before they drag me there."
"Good luck," he said, "with the interview."
"Good luck with whatever idols do after performances."
He smiled. "Probably collapse."
That made her laugh again and he had approximately half a second to enjoy it before she turned and started down the hallway.
Halfway there,
She glanced back.
He was still standing exactly where she had left him.
Watching.
Something about that made her smile before she disappeared around the corner.
Beside him, Jay exhaled slowly.
"Okay," he said. "I like her."
Sunghoon nodded once, which from Sunghoon was basically a standing ovation.
Heeseung said nothing.
He was still looking at the corner she had disappeared around, phone warm in his hand.
And for the rest of the night, neither of them could stop checking their phones.
The awards after-party was held two floors above the main arena.
Music pulsed through the room. Louder than necessary, bass vibrating through the polished floor. Colored lights washed over clusters of idols, managers, and industry staff. Laughter, glasses clinking, camera flashes. It was chaotic in a completely different way from backstage.
Enhypen had claimed a couch near one of the tall windows.
Jungwon and Sunghoon were deep in conversation about the performance, Jungwon gesturing with the focused energy he got when he was replaying choreography in his head. Niki was sprawled across one end of the couch looking like he was thirty seconds from falling asleep. Sunoo was laughing at something Jake had said, the two of them leaning into each other the way they always did in loud rooms.
Jay was beside Heeseung, talking.
Heeseung wasn't really listening.
His phone buzzed lightly in his hand.
Manon.
Did you survive collapsing yet?
He smiled immediately.
Barely.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Good. I didn't want to accidentally text a ghost.
He laughed under his breath.
"What's funny?" Jay asked, glancing over.
"Nothing."
Jay looked at the phone. Then at Heeseung's face. Then back at the phone.
"Uh huh," Jay said.
Across the room, the door opened again.
A group from Katseye walked in. The lighting shifted as people noticed them. A few artists waved, managers greeted each other, someone called out congratulations above the noise.
Heeseung's eyes found her without trying.
Manon stood near the doorway, scanning the room the way she had earlier backstage. One hand rested loosely at her side. She'd changed out of her stage outfit into something simpler, and somehow that was worse—less armour, more just her.
Then she saw him.
Her expression changed the same way it had before.
That quiet smile.
His phone buzzed again.
Found you.
He glanced up. She lifted her glass slightly in his direction, a silent greeting across a crowded room.
He stood up without really thinking about it.
"Where are you going?" Sunoo asked immediately, craning his neck.
"Getting a drink," Heeseung said.
Technically true.
"Sure," said Jay, in a tone that meant the opposite.
Heeseung crossed the room, weaving through small groups until he reached her.
"Did you collapse?" she asked.
"Almost." He paused half a beat. "Very close."
She laughed. "Tragic."
He leaned slightly against the tall cocktail table beside her.
"You survived the interview?"
"Barely. They asked the same question four different ways."
"Let me guess." He thought of the phrase he wanted, found it cleanly. "'How does it feel to perform tonight?'"
Her eyes lit up. "Exactly that."
For a moment, they just stood there, the music and chatter swirling around them.
The noise felt distant again. It kept doing that around her.
"I didn't realise these parties were this crowded," she said, glancing around the room.
"They're always like this."
"You come to a lot of them?"
"More than I want to."
She nodded thoughtfully. "I've never been to one this big before."
"First time?"
"Yeah."
He tilted his head slightly. "Overwhelming?"
"A little."
He noticed she had shifted slightly closer without seeming to notice. Close enough that he could hear her clearly even when the music spiked.
"You'll get used to it," he said.
"I hope not."
"Why?"
She gestured subtly toward the room. "Everyone's talking to everyone, but half the conversations are fake."
He laughed softly. "You figured that out fast."
"I'm observant."
"I noticed."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"
"You watched our rehearsal."
"That's different."
"How?"
"I was watching the dancing."
"Sure you were."
She nudged his arm lightly. "Don't get arrogant."
"I'm just—" he reached for it, "—stating facts."
"Sure you are," she said, and shook her head, smiling.
Minutes slipped by without either of them noticing.
They talked about rehearsals. About how confusing the venue hallways were. About travelling between countries so often you sometimes woke up unsure where you were.
Heeseung found himself choosing his sentences more carefully as the conversation deepened. It was a different kind of effort from performing. More exposed somehow.
But she never made him feel it.
At some point, someone turned the music louder and people drifted toward the dance floor.
Neither of them moved.
An hour passed. Then another.
At another point they had migrated from standing to sitting on a quieter couch near the edge of the room, the party continuing at full volume somewhere behind them.
The conversation had shifted without either of them announcing it. Lighter teasing giving way to something easier. More personal.
From across the room, Heeseung was faintly aware of his members on their couch. He didn't need to look to know they had noticed. He could feel it.
"Wait," Manon said suddenly. "You moved countries when you were younger, right?"
"Yeah."
"That must've been hard."
He shrugged lightly. "It was... strange. At first."
He'd wanted a better word than strange. It was the only one he could think of.
She rested her chin on her hand as she listened with the kind of attention that made you want to keep talking even when you weren't sure you had the words for it.
"You don't seem like the type to talk about yourself much," she said.
He considered that. "Maybe I just haven't had someone ask the right questions."
Her eyes flicked to his.
A small smile formed.
"Well," she said softly, "you do now."
Neither of them spoke after that.
The music from the other side of the room pulsed faintly through the floor.
On the couch by the window, Jay leaned over to Jungwon and said, very quietly: "They've been over there for two hours."
Jungwon didn't look up. "I know."
"Should we—"
"No," Jungwon said simply.
Jay looked back across the room at Heeseung, leaning toward her on that couch like the rest of the party didn't exist.
"Yeah," Jay said after a moment. "Fair enough."
The after-party had grown louder as the night went on.
Music pulsed through the room. People laughed in clusters around high tables, glasses clinking, phone flashes lighting the dim space in irregular bursts.
But on the quieter couch near the edge of the room, none of that really mattered.
Heeseung and Manon were still talking.
Manon had kicked off her heels and tucked one leg under herself on the couch.
Heeseung had leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
Neither of them had noticed how close that made them.
Or maybe they had noticed, and simply hadn't moved away.
"You're kidding," she said, staring at him.
"I'm not."
"You actually forgot the choreography. On stage."
"Once," he said defensively.
She laughed and he felt it the same way he had every time tonight. Like something warm landing in his chest uninvited.
"That's terrifying."
"You try remembering that much choreography."
"I do," she pointed out.
He opened his mouth—
Then a voice cut through the music.
"Heeseung!"
Both of them turned.
Jay was weaving through the crowd toward them, hands in his pockets, expression carefully neutral in the way that meant he had been watching for a while and had opinions he was choosing not to voice immediately.
The moment fractured slightly around the edges.
"There you are," Jay said when he reached them, glancing between the two of them with that same carefully neutral expression. "We've been looking everywhere."
Heeseung straightened slightly. "Oh—sorry."
"We have to go."
Manon blinked. "Already?"
"Manager said we're leaving early," Jay explained. "Flight in a few hours." He paused. "You two have been over here a while."
The last sentence was light. Informational, even.
But the look he gave Heeseung underneath it communicated something else entirely.
Heeseung instinctively glanced at his phone.
His eyes widened.
"...Wait."
Manon leaned closer to look at the screen.
2:47 AM.
Her eyebrows shot up. She was close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off her, could see the faint remnants of stage glitter still caught along her cheekbone.
"Hold on—"
She laughed softly, disbelieving.
"How long have we been sitting here?"
"...Four hours."
"Four—" She shook her head, stunned. Then laughed again. "Okay that's actually insane."
Jay looked between them with a small smile he wasn't trying very hard to suppress. "Yeah. We noticed you disappeared."
That comment made both of them suddenly, acutely aware of the situation.
Of how close they were sitting.
Of the fact that the rest of the party had apparently continued existing for four hours without either of them noticing.
Manon sat up slightly straighter.
Heeseung shifted where he sat, becoming aware of his own posture for the first time in hours.
"I'll wait by the door," Jay said, with the tone of someone performing tact, and walked away.
The music seemed louder in his absence.
The room busier.
They both stood at the same time.
"So," Manon said softly.
"You're leaving."
"Yeah."
She looked up at him. Standing, they were closer than they'd realised. The couch had been small, the evening long, the distance between them having dwindled down to almost nothing over four hours of conversation.
Neither of them stepped back.
"We have each other's numbers," she said.
"Yeah."
"We can text."
"Definitely."
"And call," she added.
"If you want."
He held her gaze. "I do."
Something shifted in her expression, something softer underneath the confidence, briefly visible.
"Well," she said quietly. "Good."
Neither of them moved.
The music pulsed. Someone laughed loudly nearby. The world kept going.
He was thinking, with an unhelpful degree of clarity, about how she had looked at him across the room when she first walked in. How she had lifted her glass like that. How she had spent four hours on a couch with him at an industry party and never once checked her phone, never once let her eyes drift to someone else.
He was also thinking about how she smelled faintly of something warm and floral and intoxicating.
Then she stepped forward slightly.
He did the same.
They both went for a hug at the same moment and almost collided for the second time that day, foreheads nearly knocking together, and they both laughed at the absurdity of it.
"Sorry," she murmured, close to his jaw.
"It's okay."
His arms wrapped around her.
And then neither of them moved.
It was supposed to be a goodbye hug. It lasted significantly longer than that. He could feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her jacket, the steadiness of her breathing, the way her hands had found the back of his shoulders and stayed there. He was very aware of where she ended and he began.
He was also very aware that he didn't want to let go.
She spoke quietly near his shoulder, voice slightly lower than usual.
"You should go before your manager comes looking for you."
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
Another second passed.
Then another.
The music changed to something slower.
Eventually, and only because Jay was going to come back if he didn't, he loosened his arms.
She pulled back at almost the same time.
They looked at each other.
Up close, in the dim light of the party, with the noise and the crowd reduced to background static, something about the moment felt suspended. Like it was waiting for one of them to decide something.
Neither of them did.
"Text me when you land," she said softly.
"I will."
A beat.
"Don't disappear for another four hours next time," he said.
She laughed, and he watched the way it changed her whole face, the way her eyes caught the light.
"No promises."
From across the room, "Heeseung!"
He glanced toward the door. Then back at her.
Her expression had settled into something quieter. Still warm. Still that same attention she had given him all evening, like he was the only interesting thing in the room.
He had spent the entire night trying not to stare.
He was staring now.
"Goodnight, Manon."
"Goodnight, Heeseung."
He held her gaze for one more second.
Then turned and walked toward the exit before he did something inadvisable.
She stayed where she was.
Watching him go.
Her heart was doing something she didn't particularly want to examine in the middle of a crowded party.
Just before he reached the door, he glanced back.
She was still standing there. Still looking at him. The dim lights caught her outfit, the line of her jaw, the quiet curve of that smile.
He almost walked back.
He didn't.
He pushed through the door instead.
And both of their phones buzzed at almost the exact same moment.
Safe flight.
Thank you for staying.
When the plane finally touched down in Seoul, the cabin lights flickered on slowly.
Most of the passengers were half-asleep after the overnight flight. Seatbelts clicked open, people stretched, phones powered back on as the plane taxied toward the gate.
Heeseung had been awake for the last twenty minutes.
He had tried to sleep. Had managed maybe two hours somewhere over the ocean before his mind had pulled him back up to the surface and refused to let him go under again.
It kept replaying the same things.
The couch at the party. The way the room kept going around them and neither of them had cared. The way four hours had passed like forty minutes. The warmth of her when he'd hugged her. How she hadn't pulled away, how he hadn't either, how they'd both just stayed there a few seconds longer than the situation required.
The way she had still been standing in the same spot when he looked back from the door.
He stared at the seat back in front of him in the dark cabin.
Beside him, Jay was genuinely asleep, head tipped against the window, mouth slightly open. Across the aisle, Sunghoon had his eye mask pushed up on his forehead and was scrolling through his phone with the blank expression of someone not yet fully conscious.
Jungwon, one row ahead, had slept the entire flight like a person with a clear conscience.
Heeseung envied him.
The moment the plane reached the gate and the cabin stirred into motion, his phone buzzed back to life. Notifications flooded the screen with group chats, messages from staff, fans posting clips of the performance and schedules for the week ahead.
He ignored all of it.
He opened their chat instead.
Just looked at it for a moment.
The last message was hers.
Text me when you land.
He checked the time. He did the rough calculation in his head, trying to determine the time difference.
He hesitated.
Then typed anyway.
Just landed.
He stared at the message. It felt too short. Too flat for everything he actually wanted to say, none of which he was certain he had the English for.
He added another.
You probably won't see this for a while but… I hope you got some sleep.
He looked at it for a second.
Hit send before he could change his mind.
The typing bubble didn't appear.
Of course it didn't.
He slipped the phone into his pocket as the members shuffled into the aisle around him. Jay, now awake and deeply rumpled, fell into step beside him with the energy of someone running on fumes and stubbornness.
"You sleep at all?" Jay asked.
"A little."
Jay looked at him sideways. "Uh huh."
Outside the airport, the early morning air in Seoul was cool and grey, the city not yet fully awake. Their van was already waiting at the curb, engine running.
The ride back to the dorm was quiet; everyone was too hollowed out from the long night to manage much conversation. Niki fell back asleep within minutes, head against the window. Sunoo had his eyes closed and his earphones in. Even Jake, who could normally talk through anything, was silent, watching the city pass outside.
Jungwon glanced over at Heeseung once during the drive.
Heeseung was looking at his phone.
Jungwon said nothing. Just looked back at the road ahead with the quiet expression of someone filing something away.
Back at the dorm, the members drifted slowly toward their rooms. Shoes dropped near the entrance. Someone murmured goodnight even though it was morning. A door closed.
Then another.
Heeseung sat on the edge of his bed.
The room was dim, curtains still drawn from when he'd left. His bag sat unpacked by the door. The dorm was quiet in a way that felt very different from the noise of the last twenty-four hours. The arena, the stage, the party, the couch, the hallway where she had smiled at him from across the room like he was the only person she'd been looking for.
He checked the phone again.
Nothing.
He knew it hadn't even been an hour. He knew she was probably asleep thousands of kilometres away, completely unaware that he was sitting in the dark thinking about the way she'd said his name with that accent.
He set the phone on the nightstand.
Picked it up again.
Set it down.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
He lay back, still in his clothes, and let it pull him under.
* * * * *
Across the world, hours later, Manon's phone buzzed on the bedside table.
She stirred.
Reached for it without opening her eyes.
Then opened them.
Read the messages once.
Then again.
Just landed.
You probably won't see this for a while but… I hope you got some sleep.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment.
She was smiling before she'd fully decided to.
She typed back.
I did. Did you?
A pause. Then, because she was still half asleep and it was true,
I kept thinking about the party.
She stared at what she'd written.
Hit send anyway.
And waited.
She lay on her back with one arm folded over her stomach and stared at the ceiling, and let her mind do what it had apparently been doing for some time already, even before she was fully conscious.
Replaying last night.
Not the performance, not the after-party, not the noise and definitely not the industry small talk. Nothing else.
Just the couch.
Just him.
The way he had leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and listened to her talk. The way he had laughed when she caught him out, quiet and genuine, nothing forced about it. The careful half-second pauses before certain words, the slight rerouting when a phrase didn't come fast enough, and the way none of it had made the conversation feel halting. It felt like he meant everything he said because he had chosen it.
She turned onto her side.
She had met a lot of people in this industry. Charming people. Attractive people. People who were very good at making you feel like the only person in a room full of important people.
This had been different.
She wasn't entirely sure what to do with that.
Manon was not, by nature, someone who fell quickly. She had watched it happen to other people and had always observed it from a slight distance, curious but unaffected. She liked people. She could be drawn to people. But the particular gravity that made someone want to reorganise their life around another person had always felt, to her, like something that happened to others.
She had never, in her life, spent four hours talking to someone she had met that morning and lost track of time doing it.
She had never hugged someone goodbye and had to consciously decide to let go.
She pressed her face briefly into the pillow.
This was not a feeling she had been expecting to bring home from a show.
She lay there for another few minutes, which was already longer than she typically allowed herself to stay in bed thinking about a boy or anyone in general.
Then she got up, because lying in bed thinking about it was not going to make it make more sense.
She showered and dressed slowly, pulling her hair back, going through the motions with the particular deliberateness of someone trying to feel normal. By the time she made it to the kitchen, the others were already there. Lara at the counter with coffee, Megan and Daniela at the table over bowls of cereal, Sophia sitting cross-legged on the couch with her phone, a half-eaten piece of toast beside her, and Yoonchae searching for something in the fridge.
"She lives," Daniela said, without looking up.
"Barely," Manon replied, and went for the coffee.
"We were good last night," Megan said, with the satisfied tone of someone who had already watched the performance back three times. "Like really good. The formation in the second chorus—"
"Was perfect," Lara finished, nodding firmly. "I watched it back this morning. We were so clean."
"The crowd was insane," Daniela said. "Did you see the section on the left side? They knew every word."
The conversation moved easily through the morning—the performance, the other acts they had watched, the particular surreal experience of standing in a corridor and realising you were next to someone you had been listening to for years.
Manon drank her coffee and let it wash over her, feeling herself settle back into the easy rhythm of them.
Then Megan said, with the specific casualness of someone who had been waiting, "So. Enhypen."
Manon kept her eyes on her mug.
"They were great," she said evenly.
"They were," Megan agreed. "We watched from the side stage, remember. Very good." A pause. "Heeseung is very good."
"He's a strong performer."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
Lara looked up. "You were talking to him for like the entire party."
"We were having a conversation."
"For four hours," Daniela said.
"We lost track of time."
"Manon." Megan set down her spoon. "We looked over at one point and you were both completely checked out of the entire event. You were just—" she gestured, "—in your own little corner."
"It wasn't a little corner—"
"Jay came over to us at one point," Lara said conversationally, "and asked, and I'm quoting, 'has your member always been that easy to talk to or is it just him?'"
Manon opened her mouth.
Closed it.
"He said that?"
"Word for word," Lara confirmed.
Daniela grinned. "And then when you hugged goodbye—"
"We were just saying goodbye—"
"It was a long goodbye."
"Goodbyes take time—"
"Manon." Megan’s voice was warm but completely unconvinced. "It's fine. He's gorgeous, he's talented, you clearly—"
"Okay," Sophia said, from the couch.
She hadn't looked up from her phone. Her voice was light, but it had that quiet and final quality that made everyone in the room redirect without quite knowing why.
Megan closed her mouth.
Daniela looked back at her cereal.
Lara suddenly found her coffee very interesting.
Manon shot Sophia a grateful look across the room.
Sophia met it briefly, then went back to her phone. "Give her a break. We were all talking to people last night."
The conversation shifted. Megan asked about the schedule for the week, Daniela complained about the early call time tomorrow, Lara pulled up something on her phone she wanted to show everyone.
Manon exhaled slowly into her coffee.
A few minutes later, while the others were crowded around Lara's phone, Sophia appeared beside her at the counter. She refilled her coffee without rushing, not looking at Manon directly.
Then quietly, "Walk with me a second?"
They drifted to the far end of the kitchen, just out of easy earshot.
Sophia leaned against the counter. There wasn’t any lead-up, no softening. That was Sophia's way.
"I'm not going to do what they were doing," she said. "But I want to say something."
"Okay."
"You know how closely they watch us right now." She didn't need to specify who they were. The label. The public. The particular attention that came with being a girl group still finding its footing in a very specific industry. "And it's not just our fans. It's his fans too. Engenes are—" she paused, choosing the word carefully, "—attentive."
Manon looked at her.
"Sophia—"
"I'm not telling you what to do. I just want you to be careful. Even texting. Even just being seen together somewhere. It gets complicated fast and you're both at a point where—"
"I know," Manon said.
Sophia looked at her steadily. "Do you?"
"It's not going to go anywhere," Manon said. Her voice was calm and certain. "I'm not...I'm not looking for that right now. We're constantly moving, he's constantly moving, we're on opposite sides of the world most of the time. It's not realistic."
Sophia was quiet for a moment.
"And?" she said.
"And what?"
"You said all the practical things very quickly."
Manon held her gaze. "Because they're true."
"They are," Sophia agreed. "I'm just saying, be honest with yourself too. Not just with me."
A short silence.
"It was one night," Manon said. "A good conversation. That's all."
Sophia looked at her for another moment with the expression of someone who was deciding not to push.
"Okay," she said simply, and straightened. "Just be careful."
Manon stayed at the counter.
She looked down at her mug. The coffee had gone slightly cold.
It was one night. A conversation. Nothing had happened. He was in Seoul and she was here in L.A. Their schedules were relentless. The label watched everything. His fans were everywhere. The logistics alone were impossible without even getting to the part where she didn't do this. She didn't fall, didn't let herself tip forward into something she couldn't walk back from.
She had been completely serious when she said it wouldn't go anywhere.
She had meant every word.
Yet somewhere at the very back of her mind, quiet and inconveniently clear, a small voice whispered, " You're lying."
She picked up her coffee.
Took a sip.
Didn't examine it any further.