Something flickered across his face — surprise, vulnerability, hope — each emotion chasing the next like clouds across the sun.
"You felt that?" His voice was barely above a whisper, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed.
"Pride." I said it quietly, holding his gaze. "And something else. Something heavier." Hwan was silent for a long moment, his expression shifting through something I couldn't quite read. When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its brightness, settling into something more real.
"The thing about being the sunshine is that everyone expects you to shine. All the time. No clouds allowed." He moved to the barre along the wall, leaning against it with his arms crossed. The pose was casual, but I could see tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers gripped his own biceps. "I'm the one who lightens the mood. The one who makes everyone laugh. The one who never has bad days because bad days aren'ton brand."
I crossed the room to stand beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough to smell vanilla and sunshine mixing with the salt of his recent exertion.
"That sounds exhausting." I kept my voice soft, not wanting to spook him now that he was finally being real with me.
"It is." He said it simply, like he was stating a fact. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Being endlessly bright is exhausting. "The company calls me the 'visual' because of my face and my dancing. But really, I think they keep me around because I'm useful. I can turn any interview around, defuse any tension, make any fan event feel special." He paused, his jaw tightening as he stared at their reflections in the mirror across the room. "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just... stopped. If I let myself be sad or angry or tired in front of people. Would they still want me?"
"Your pack would." The words came out with more conviction than I expected, and I saw his head turn sharply toward me.
"You think so?" There was something almost desperate in the question, a crack in the sunshine mask that let me see the fear underneath.
"I know so." I reached out, my fingers brushing against his forearm before I could stop myself. The contact sent a spark of warmth through me, the bond humming with approval. "I saw how they look at you. How Jae-won checks on you when he thinks no one's watching. How Jin-ho saves you the last piece of whatever Min-jun bakes. How Tae-min follows you around like you hung the moon." I paused, letting the truth settle between us like something solid and real. "They don't love you because you're bright. They love you because you'reyou. The sunshine is just a bonus."
His eyes went glassy for a moment, and I watched him blink rapidly, fighting back something that looked dangerously close to tears. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
"No one's ever said that to me before." His voice came out rough, cracked around the edges like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
"Then everyone else hasn't been paying attention." I squeezed his arm gently, feeling the muscle tense and then relax under my touch. The moment stretched, warm and fragile and real. Then Hwan let out a shaky breath and pushed off from the barre, his energy shifting from vulnerability back to something lighter — but not the forced brightness from before. This was genuine. Relief, maybe. Or the beginning of trust.
"Okay." He clapped his hands together, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Enough of me being emotionally compromised in my own practice room. I promised to show you something, and I haven't delivered yet." He held out his hand, palm up, an invitation that made something flutter in my chest. "Dance with me?"
I stared at his outstretched hand like it might bite me, my heart rate picking up. "I told you, I can't?—"
"And I told you everyone says that." His smile was back, but warmer now, gentler, reaching his eyes in a way the stage smile never quite did. "I'm not going to teach you choreography. I just want to move with you. No pressure, no performance. Just... feeling the music together."
My heart was hammering against my ribs. The golden amber bond pulsed encouragingly, practically purring at the idea of being closer to him. And beneath my fear, beneath my instinct to refuse anything that might make me vulnerable, there was something else.
Want.
I wanted to know what it felt like to move with him. To let him lead me somewhere I'd never been. To trust my body in his hands.
I placed my palm in his. His fingers curled around mine immediately, warm and sure, and he tugged me gently toward the center of the room. A different song started playing — something slower, with a deep bass line and a melody that seemed to wrap around my bones.
"Just follow me." Hwan murmured the words close to my ear, his free hand settling on my hip. The touch was light, almost tentative, giving me room to pull away if I wanted to. "Don't think about steps or timing. Just feel where I'm going and go with me."
"I don't—" I started to protest, but he cut me off.
"You do." His voice was soft but certain, his breath warm against my temple. "Your body knows what to do. You've just been telling it not to for so long that you've forgotten how to listen." He started to move, and I stumbled trying to follow. His hand on my hip steadied me, guiding me gently back into rhythm. Left foot, right foot, a turn I didn't see coming but somehow completed. His body pressed closer to mine, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the heat of him through my clothes.
"There." He breathed the word like a prayer, his fingers flexing against my hip. "Just like that."
We swayed together, and somewhere in the middle of the second verse, something clicked. I stopped thinking about where my feet should go and started feeling instead. Hwan's body telegraphed every movement a heartbeat before he made it — a shift in his weight, a flex of his fingers against my hip, a subtle pull that saidturn herewithout any words. The bond hummed between us, acting like a current of understanding that flowed both ways.
By the time the chorus hit, I was laughing. Actually laughing, breathless and disbelieving, as Hwan spun me out and pulled meback in with a flourish. My back pressed against his chest, both of us swaying, and I could feel his laughter vibrating through me.
"See?" His breath was warm against my ear, his voice bright with triumph. "Told you everyone's wrong."
"You're a good teacher." I managed the words between breaths, still slightly dazed by the fact that I hadn't fallen on my face.
"You're a good student." He spun me again, slower this time, so we ended up face to face. His hands found my waist, steadying me, and I realized with a start how close we were. Close enough that I could see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Close enough that his breath ghosted across my lips when he spoke. "Keira..."
The way he said my name made something low in my belly tighten. It wasn't a question, but it wasn't quite a statement either. It was something in between — a request, maybe. An opening.
