Final week.
That phrase carried weight in the K-pop world. Final week meant long nights, heightened scrutiny, and a thousand eyes on your every move. It was when even the smallest mistake could be magnified on social media within minutes. It was also when the bonds between idols were tested—and sometimes, forged.
Rehearsals had taken over their lives.
"Again from the bridge!" shouted the choreographer.
The room buzzed with energy as ST4R and ECL!PSE repositioned themselves. The joint stage formation had been changed yet again to add more intensity. Yuna and Kai were now required to lead the dance break—an explosive duet filled with power moves and synchronized spins.
"Yuna, Kai—your footwork has to lock tighter. The camera's going to be three feet from your face!"
They reset. Again.
The track started. Again.
This time, Yuna spun too quickly. Her hand struck Kai's shoulder.
He flinched, took a step back, and winced. The music cut.
"Ugh!" Yuna groaned, pulling off her in-ear. "I'm sorry! Are you okay?"
Kai flexed his shoulder and gave a slight nod. "Yeah. Just a bit of impact."
The choreographer clapped sharply. "Everyone, take five!"
Yuna sat heavily near the mirrors, sweat clinging to her skin. Her heart ached—not from the dance, but from the tension.
Kai joined her quietly. "You okay?" he asked, mirroring her question.
She chuckled softly. "That was my line."
They sat in silence, watching the other members sip water, stretch, or collapse in exhaustion.
"I had a dream last night," Kai said.
Yuna blinked. "About what?"
"You," he said, without looking at her. "You were on a stage. But no one else was. Just you. And you were singing... something I hadn't written yet."
She swallowed, caught off guard. "Was I good?"
He finally looked at her, eyes soft. "You were unforgettable."
Her throat went dry. But before she could respond, a staff member called for them to return.
They stood. They didn't speak. But their hands brushed as they walked side by side to their marks.
---
After rehearsal, Kai stayed behind.
He sat at the edge of the stage, headphones on, replaying the rehearsal video. Frame by frame. Step by step.
Yuna peeked in from the hallway.
She watched him for a few seconds, unseen. He looked so focused. So serious. But every once in a while, he would rewind to their duet—slow it down, pause, then hit play again.
She turned to leave, but her phone buzzed.
Kai: "Still think you're the one who hit too hard?"
She smiled.
Yuna: "Definitely. But next time, duck faster."
He sent back a single emoji. 🎧
She didn't reply.
She didn't need to.
---
Later that night, Kai added a second verse to his song.
He didn't write the lyrics.
He wrote her laugh.