Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Okay, hear me out,” Bobby said, pacing in front of the couch like he was selling a pyramid scheme. “A joint reality show. Two groups. One villa. Country escape vibes. Confession cams. Chaotic missions. All expenses paid.”

Mira, curled upside down with her feet over the armrest, raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like every other variety show we’ve done but with less makeup and more trauma.”

Zoey yawned. “Hard pass. I’m not sharing a fridge with strangers. Or a bathroom. Or air.”

“I haven’t even told you the best part,” Bobby said dramatically. “It’s international.”

That got Rumi’s attention. “Where?”

“Italy.”

He paused for effect.

“Specifically, Lake Como. Private villa. Two weeks. Exclusive rights. Fans will eat it up.”

The room went quiet.

Even Zoey sat up.

Mira blinked. “Like… actual Italy? Not the weird greenscreen Italy like that one brand collab we did last year?”

“Real Italy. Passport-stamped. Pasta-fueled. Vespa-core.”

“You made that word up.”

“It’s not the point.”

Rumi leaned forward slightly, arms crossed. “So what’s the catch?”

Bobby grinned—too wide. Too polished. “You’ll be co-starring with a male idol group.”

Mira narrowed her eyes. “Who.”

He hesitated just long enough for them to know.

“...Saja Boys.”

Zoey groaned and fell face-first onto a pillow. “Of course.”

Mira scoffed. “You mean the group that beat us out of Best Performance last year even though they copied our bridge choreography?”

“They didn’t copy it. They—”

“They mirrored it.”

Rumi stayed quiet, but something in her jaw tensed. She hadn’t seen Jinu in person in almost four months.

“And,” Bobby added, tapping his clipboard, “there’s a prize.”

“Cash?” Zoey mumbled into the pillow.

“Cash, yes. And a bonus of your choosing.”

“Wait—what kind of bonus?” Mira asked, sitting up properly now.

“The network’s offering to fund one major project per group. Solo debut, self-produced mini album, original dance film—whatever you pitch, they’ll greenlight it.”

That did it.

Three heads turned toward Rumi, who hadn’t spoken.

She met Bobby’s eyes. “If we say yes, we get final say on what airs.”

Bobby hesitated. “Technically the production team—”

“Final. Say,” she repeated.

He nodded. “I'll make it happen.”

Rumi looked to the others.

Zoey sighed dramatically. “Italy is on my vision board.”

Mira grinned. “And I have a concept idea that’ll slay if we win.”

“Fine,” Zoey groaned. “But if they make us do that paintball mission thing again, I’m throwing Romance into the lake.”

Bobby clapped his hands. “Perfect! I’ll tell the producers you’re in.”

As he left the room, Mira turned to Rumi.

“You okay with this?”

Rumi nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

She didn’t say, "Jinu’s is going to be there and I’m not sure if we’re still a secret or just strangers again."

She just said, “It’s just a show. We’ll win.”

And no one noticed the way she looked at her phone for a second longer than necessary.

“You’re going.”

Gwima tossed a folder onto the dance studio floor with the kind of force that said this is not a conversation.

The Saja Boys blinked up at him, sweaty and out of breath after a full choreo run. Abby, who had been flexing in the mirror between takes, barely turned his head.

“Going where?” Baby asked, draped dramatically over a speaker like a bored cat.

“Italy,” Gwima said.

Romance perked up. “Like… Rome?”

“Lake Como. Villa. Two weeks.”

Abby whistled low. “Is it sponsored? ‘Cause I’m not wearing free linen shirts unless we’re getting paid.”

“You are getting paid,” Gwima said. “It’s a reality show. Healing theme. Fans eat that up. You’ll fish. Cook. Play games. Cry about your moms. Maybe fall in love.”

Mysterio blinked. “Wait—what?”

“You’re filming with another group. Full lock-in setup. Confession cams. Shared kitchen.”

Jinu froze, water bottle halfway to his mouth. “Which group?”

Gwima, who had clearly been waiting for the moment, smiled darkly.

“Huntrix.”

Silence.

Romance let out a slow, exaggerated “ohhhhhh.”

Baby cackled. “Aren’t their fans still trying to cancel us for beating them in that award show last year?”

“We didn’t even vote for ourselves,” Mysterio mumbled.

“Doesn’t matter,” Gwima said. “It’s a brand deal between both companies. The show has a huge budget. You’ll get visibility, international reach, and if you win—bonus promo slots for your next comeback.”

“And if we lose?” Abby asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gwima fixed him with a look. “You’ve already lost.”

Abby sat up straighter. “Oh, c’mon—”

“Three scandals in two months, Abby.”

“They weren’t scandals, they were misinterpreted balcony photos and harmless emoji comments!”

“Your abs are a menace.”

“You’re just jealous.”

Gwima didn’t blink. “This is a cleanup move. A controlled environment. No girls, no drinks, no shirtless selfies unless they're scripted.”

Abby flopped back onto the floor. “I hate PR.”

“You are PR.”

“Why do I have to suffer just because I’m hot?”

Romance rolled his eyes. “We suffer because you never use the back exit like we tell you to.”

Meanwhile, Jinu had gone quiet. He was standing near the back, towel around his neck, eyes focused on the far wall.

Gwima turned to him, tone softening just a little. “You alright, kid?”

Jinu didn’t answer at first.

When he did, it was low. “You said Huntrix?”

“Yeah.”

Jinu looked down. “Rumi’ll be there.”

“You haven’t seen her since…”

“The train station. The cameras.”

“And nothing since then?”

He shook his head.

Gwima sighed. “You could’ve reached out.”

“I didn’t know if I was supposed to.”

“Maybe now’s your shot.”

Jinu’s jaw tightened.

“Or maybe it makes it worse,” he said.

Gwima clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s two weeks. Play nice. Don’t get caught. And if you cry on camera, make it cute.”

Abby raised a hand. “If I cry on camera, it’ll be because Romance steals the nice room again.”

Romance groaned, “I earned that room.”

Baby frowned, “You earned a kick in the—”

“Enough!” Gwima barked. “Flights leave in three days. Pack like you’re dating someone richer than you, and for the love of god—Abby, no mesh shirts.”

The villa looked like a postcard that had been Photoshopped for no reason. Lake Como sparkled at its feet. Flowers spilled from balcony planters. The air was heavy with birdsong and wealth.

Huntrix stepped out of their van first, sunglasses and killer coats in full effect.

“Okay but this is actually insane,” Mira said, throwing her duffle bag over her shoulder. “I thought we’d be staying in like… a cottage. With bugs.”

Zoey pulled out her phone to film. “This is giving idol influencer retreat, and I’m here for it.”

Rumi kept her sunglasses on, but her fingers clenched slightly at her side. She hadn’t stopped checking the road.

Mira leaned toward her. “You good?”

“I’m fine.”

She wasn’t.

She hadn’t seen Jinu in three months. Not since the almost-scandal. Not since that cold night when she told him she needed space—and then never texted again.

She didn’t know if they were broken up.

Or just… paused.

A second van pulled up.

Saja Boys.

Zoey instantly squared her shoulders. “Get ready to act like we’re better than them.”

“We are better than them,” Mira said casually.

The van doors opened.

First out: Romance, ever the drama king, in boots that made no sense on gravel.

Then Baby, hauling a too-big suitcase and complaining about the lack of Wi-Fi before even entering the house.

Then came Abby.

Shades, smug grin, shirt very intentionally unbuttoned halfway. He caught Mira’s eye and winked.

She stared flatly back. “Gross.”

“Hi to you too, bro,” Abby shot back, grinning wider.

Then Mysterio stepped out—hood up, headphones in, blinking at the sun like it insulted him.

And finally, Jinu.

Rumi’s breath caught.

His hair was longer. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept enough in months.

He looked at her.

And she looked away.

The moment passed.

But Abby, of course, caught it.

He didn’t say anything.

Just filed it away.

Inside the villa was just as insane: stone floors, arched windows, a garden with a fountain, and two oversized “confession booths” in the corner like some twisted K-pop Hunger Games.

They were told to choose rooms in pairs. Mira and Zoey teamed up. Rumi took the solo suite. Saja Boys bickered, Baby got the couch for mouthing off.

Abby slung his bag over one shoulder and leaned into Mira’s doorway.

“You sure you don’t wanna bunk with me?”

“I’d rather sleep in the lake.”

He grinned, as if she hadn’t just roasted him.

Outside, the lake glinted gold.

Rumi stood at the window, watching Jinu from afar.

She didn’t wave.

He didn’t look.

Mira appeared behind her, arms crossed. “I think we’re in for a wild two weeks.”

Rumi nodded.

But all she could think about was whether two weeks was enough to fix what they never finished.

"Three, two, one—rolling!"

The director’s voice cut through the villa courtyard like a clap of thunder.

Everyone sat in carefully arranged formation: Huntrix on one side, Saja Boys on the other. A decorative outdoor table was covered in lemonade pitchers, cute snacks, and a bowl of what could only be described as evil little question cards.

Rumi sat with Mira on her right and Zoey on her left, posture perfect, expression unreadable. She could feel Jinu’s presence directly across from her like heat under her skin.

Abby sat next to Jinu, sunglasses perched on his head, spinning a toothpick between his fingers. He caught Mira glancing at him and shot her a wink. She looked at him like he was mold.

The director stepped in front of the camera with the biggest grin on earth. “Welcome to Behind the Beat: Idol Lock-In!” he chirped. “We’re so excited to have two of the hottest idol groups sharing this gorgeous villa in Italy for the next two weeks!”

Cue forced applause.

Romance clapped loudly with both hands.

Baby booed under his breath.

“Let’s start,” the director continued, “with a quick introduction! Just your name, group, and one fun fact about you. Something the fans don’t know, okay?”

“Ugh,” Mira muttered.

Zoey nudged her. “It’s giving trauma dump incoming.”

“Huntrix, go first!”

Rumi cleared her throat, already sensing the cameras zooming in. “I’m Rumi, leader of Huntrix. Fun fact… I make a really good garlic shrimp pasta. And I like cooking alone.”

Jinu blinked slowly. Abby’s eyes flicked to Rumi, then to Jinu. Then back to Rumi.

He didn’t comment—but oh, he noticed.

“I’m Mira,” Mira said next, arms crossed. “I used to race motorbikes with my cousins before debut. I still have the scars.”

Abby let out a choked sound. “That’s… hot?”

“Ew,” she said flatly.

“I’m Zoey,” Zoey said cheerfully. “I wanted to be a stuntwoman before becoming an idol. I’m not flexible, I just don’t fear death.”

Baby grinned. “We should hang out.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No.”

Saja Boys’ turn.

“I’m Mystery,” he said, flipping imaginary hair. “Fun fact: I cried watching The Lion King. The animated one.”

“Which part?” Zoey asked, intrigued.

“The clouds. You know.”

“Mufasa?!” she shrieked. “OH MY GOD—”

“I’m Baby,” Baby said. “I almost got kicked out of training for trying to start a hot sauce business.”

Rumi blinked. “Wait, that was you?”

“I had investors,” Baby insisted.

“I’m Romance,” Romance mumbled. “I… write poetry. But like, bad poetry. For practice.”

Everyone stared.

“That’s… kind of sweet,” Mira said, caught off guard.

Romance turned pink.

“I’m Abby,” Abby said smoothly. “Fun fact: despite what my abs suggest, I read romance webtoons in my free time.”

“Liar,” Mira muttered.

“I can show you my reading list.”

“Please don’t.”

Finally, Jinu.

He hesitated.

“I’m Jinu. Leader of Saja Boys. I—uh—”

He glanced once at Rumi.

“Fun fact… I like journaling. But I never reread anything.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It was loud.

The director, delighted by the tension, clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! Now let’s break the ice!”

A staff member placed the bowl of cards on the table.

“Each group will take turns pulling a card and answering it. If you refuse, the other team gets a point. At the end of the week, the team with the most points gets a reward!”

“What kind of reward?” Romance asked suspiciously.

“A free day with no cameras.”

Everyone suddenly looked way more motivated.

First draw: Mira.

She pulled the card, read it, and groaned.

“Which member from the opposing group would you trust with a secret?”

She squinted across the table. “None of them.”

“You have to pick!” Zoey grinned.

Mira rolled her eyes. “Fine. Romance.”

He looked up, surprised. “Really?”

“You look like the type who’d forget the secret immediately. Safe.”

Next: Romance.

He picked a card.

“Describe your ideal type using three adjectives.”

Mira raised an eyebrow.

“Quiet,” he said softly. “Smart. Kind.”

Mira smirked. “Didn’t say my name, but okay.”

Rumi’s turn.

“What’s one thing you regret not saying when you had the chance?”

Her hand froze.

She didn’t look up.

She placed the card back in the bowl.

Saja Boys got the point.

Zoey leaned over. “Rumi—”

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

Jinu’s fingers twitched under the table.

Abby reached for the next card, almost too quickly.

“Who in this group do you think would break the dating ban first?”

Romance howled. “Ohhh, they gave you the scandal bait!”

Abby just grinned.

“Well, it wouldn’t be me,” he said, all charm. “I don’t break bans. I bend them.”

Zoey made a gagging sound.

“But,” he added, tilting his head, “if I had to guess? Mira.”

Mira threw a pretzel at his face. “EXCUSE me?!”

“You’ve got that rebellious ‘let’s escape the dorm’ vibe.”

“Rebellious? Me?”

Abby leaned in slightly. “Don’t worry. I’d cover for you.”

Mira blinked.

Just once.

But enough for him to catch it.

Rumi stood suddenly.

“I’m going to get water.”

She didn’t wait for permission. She just left.

The director whispered something to the crew and gestured to follow her.

Jinu didn’t move.

But his grip on the chair tightened just enough that Abby noticed.

Romance laughed loudly, filling the space. “So... anyone wanna play Truth or Dare? No cameras?”

Baby rolled his eyes, “Hard pass.”

Mira shook her head, “Absolutely not.”

Zoey looked around a bit confused, “Actually yes.”

The director clapped again. “Perfect first round, everyone! Let’s break for room setup!”

In the kitchen, Rumi opened the fridge just to breathe.

She didn’t hear footsteps.

Until she did.

Jinu stood in the doorway. Hands in pockets. Saying nothing.

She didn’t turn.

“You’re still journaling?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“I figured you stopped.”

“I didn’t.”

Pause.

“I didn’t reach out,” she said.

“I know.”

“You didn’t either.”

“I know.”

Another beat.

“Do we say anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

They stood there. Not quite close. Not quite apart.

Then the producer poked his head in. “Hey—sorry, can we mic you guys up for a quick kitchen cam? Just pretend you’re grabbing juice or something—”

They both turned away from each other instantly.

“Of course,” Rumi said smoothly.

“Right,” Jinu added.

But neither of them reached for the juice.

And neither of them left first.

Chapter Text

Morning came with gold-tinted windows and the faint smell of butter and berries.

Huntrix was gathered around a breakfast table set too beautifully for something real. Someone—probably Bobby—had arranged strawberries in a perfect heart shape on a glass plate, and there were matching pastel mugs filled with oat milk lattes, each labeled with their names in sparkly sticker lettering.

Rumi stared at hers. It said “CEO of Calm.” Mira’s said “Feral but Make It Fashion.” Zoey’s was just “Menace.”

Bobby strolled in like he hadn’t been up since 4 a.m. micromanaging the camera crew and ironing out lighting notes.

“Good morning, my sparkle muffins,” he announced, clapping once. “How are we feeling? Emotionally? Spiritually? Caffeinatedly?”

“Dead inside,” Zoey said, sipping.

Mira groaned. “Did they really schedule a brunch shoot right after leg day?”

“Yes,” Bobby said cheerfully. “And we love them for it.”

“You’re a liar,” Mira muttered.

“And a fan of it,” he replied. “Now listen up, queens. Today is easy breezy. First, we do brunch—outside, by the lake, cute outfits, mimosas, fake laughter. Just like we practiced.”

“Can we actually drink the mimosas this time?” Zoey asked.

“Absolutely not. Juice only. Sparkles will be added depending on today's budget.”

Rumi was quiet, still stirring her spoon in a cup she hadn’t sipped from yet. Her hair was loose. Her robe was silk. She looked like calm incarnate—but Zoey knew better.

Bobby’s eyes flicked to her briefly, then softened.

“Second,” he continued, “we’ll split for the interview block. Some of you will go solo, others paired. We’re leaning casual. Honest but light. No trauma dumps unless they’re aesthetic.”

“Define aesthetic trauma,” Mira said, biting into toast.

“You know,” Bobby said, deadpan. “Like, ‘I was sad but in a poetic way.’”

Zoey snorted.

“Third is the game segment. Team relay. You’ll be with the Saja Boys. Friendly competition only. No injuries. No lake pushing. No face slapping.”

Mira and Zoey shared a look.

“...fine,” they said together.

“And,” Bobby added, lowering his voice dramatically, “I know it’s awkward right now. I know who’s here.”

The room got quieter.

Zoey fiddled with her ring. Mira glanced at Rumi.

Rumi didn’t flinch.

Bobby exhaled. “I don’t expect you to be fake. But I do expect you to be smart. You’re professionals. And I’m proud of you. All of you.”

Zoey looked up, surprised.

“You’re handling this better than anyone could ask,” he added.

Mira rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her mouth anyway. “Bobby, stop. You’re making me feel things.”

He pointed a spoon at her. “Good. Feel them. Then weaponize them in a cute confessional later.”

Zoey laughed.

Rumi finally took a sip of her latte.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

Bobby’s expression gentled. “You don’t have to be perfect today. Just… don’t disappear, okay?”

“I won’t.”

The words were small. But they felt true.

“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands again, the moment officially over. “Group selfie?”

Mira groaned. “Do we have to?”

“Yes. It’s for vibes. Now everyone hold a strawberry and pretend you’re not emotionally exhausted.”

They did.

Zoey bit hers dramatically. Mira threw up a peace sign. Rumi gave a soft smile. The flash clicked.

Later, that photo would go viral: “Huntrix healing in Italy!”

But right now, it was just the four of them, trying to survive breakfast with their nerves intact.

Bobby tucked the phone away and handed each of them a gummy vitamin. “Now let’s go be stunning. I’ll meet you at wardrobe. Try not to glare too hard across the brunch table.”

He paused.

“Unless it’s funny. Then commit.”

The Saja Boys’ kitchen was less “cozy retreat” and more “emergency bunker.”

Unwashed mugs. A protein bar half-eaten on the counter. Someone’s hairdryer still buzzing in another room. The vibe was chaos.

Gwima stood in front of them like a military general running on three hours of sleep and two shots of espresso. The clipboard in his hand looked like it had been through a war. His black hoodie said No.

“Alright, shut up,” he said, not looking up. “We’re doing this fast because I hate mornings and all of you are annoying.”

Baby raised a hand. “I haven’t even said anything—”

“Yet. Which is why you’re still breathing.”

Mysterio leaned against the counter, hoodie up, sipping silently. Romance was lounging on a stool like a cat in heat. Abby was scrolling his phone. Jinu sat nearest to the window, staring out at the lake like it might offer escape.

Gwima flipped a page on the clipboard and exhaled.

“Schedule,” he barked. “Brunch segment at 10 a.m., outside, by the lake. Try not to look like you hate each other. Try not to look like you love each other. Try to look like you tolerate each other, and maybe, maybe, like your lives are not on fire.”

Abby yawned dramatically. “Sounds fake.”

Gwima didn’t look up. “Abby, I swear to God—”

“What? I’m listening.”

“You’re smirking.”

“It’s just my face.”

“No, your face is what makes PR cry.”

Romance laughed under his breath. “He’s not wrong.”

“Next,” Gwima continued, stabbing at the clipboard, “interview segments. Three duos. Topics: bonding, first impressions, group chemistry. Do not hint at your dating preferences. Do not mention dream collabs unless it’s someone we’re actually negotiating with. Do not flirt.”

He looked straight at Abby.

Abby held both hands up. “You wound me.”

“You wounded sales.”

Even Baby winced.

Gwima turned to the next page.

“Final segment is the relay game. Lake challenge. Some trivia, some balance beams, some team-building garbage. Don’t fall. Don’t cheat. Don’t break anything.”

Mysterio looked up. “What’s the prize?”

“One evening with no filming.”

The room got very still.

Jinu blinked once. “Seriously?”

Gwima shrugged. “You want a break? Win.”

Abby stretched like a cat. “I vote we sabotage them. Strategically. Like... emotional warfare.”

“That’s your specialty,” Romance muttered.

“Better than your ‘spontaneous freestyle’ during rehearsals.”

“Better than your bathtub selfies at 3 a.m.”

“Better than—”

“Enough.” Gwima growled. “God, I need earplugs.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then pointed at each of them in turn.

“Baby. Speak only when spoken to. No soundboard jokes.”

“Got it.”

“Romance. No flirting with the cameras. Or the other group.”

“Rude.”

“Mysterio. You’re the only one I trust. Don’t make me regret it.”

Mysterio just nodded.

“Jinu. Whatever’s going on in your head—fix it before the cameras roll. You look haunted.”

“I’m fine,” Jinu said automatically.

Gwima raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

Jinu didn’t meet his gaze.

“Listen,” Gwima said, voice lower now. “I don’t care if you’ve got history with anyone in this villa. I don’t care if you’re heartbroken or hopeful or halfway to a song lyric. For the next ten hours, you’re a professional. Copy?”

Jinu nodded. “Copy.”

“Good.”

“And Abby.”

Everyone paused.

Abby looked up slowly. “Yes, Father?”

Gwima pointed the clipboard at his face like a weapon. “You are not allowed to be shirtless, flirty, or visible in any capacity that could make this situation worse.”

Abby grinned. “Define worse.”

“Worse is Mira breaking your jaw on camera.”

“She’d never—”

“She absolutely would,” Mysterio muttered.

“She almost did,” Baby added.

“She still might,” Romance said.

“I’m flattered, honestly,” Abby said brightly. “The tension? Electric.”

Gwima looked like he aged five years in one second.

“I want all of you outside in fifteen minutes. Looking put together. I swear, if one of you shows up with bedhead or that glazed ‘I just woke up’ expression, I will personally throw your phone in the lake.”

Baby raised a hand again. “Is this a bad time to ask if I can use the lake as a hot tub?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

And with that, Gwima stormed out—muttering about early retirement and missed opportunities to be a dentist.

The brunch set looked like something ripped from an expensive lifestyle vlog: cream-colored tablecloths, floating candles in shallow glass bowls, platters of pastel macarons and sliced fruit arranged with suspicious precision.

Camera crews hovered at discreet angles, but everyone knew they were being filmed.

Rumi sat perfectly upright, her smile polite, her back to the lake. Across from her sat Jinu, just as polished, his fingers gently rotating the stem of an untouched mimosa glass.

The place cards had been “randomized.” No one believed it.

Baby sat alone at the last table near the hydrangeas, absently poking a croissant with a fork. Apparently there was an issue with equipment so his duo, Romance, was moved to be in the interview with Mira and Abby.

Across the courtyard, Mira sat sandwiched between Abby and Romance.

She looked like she regretted every life decision that led her here.

“So,” Jinu said.

Rumi sipped her tea.

Jinu cleared his throat. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes. You?”

“Yeah. The walls are thinner than I expected.”

“Mm.”

Their conversation had the energy of two exes forced to film a joint ad for toothpaste. Smiles frozen. Eyes guarded.

“Your hair’s longer,” Rumi said suddenly.

Jinu blinked. “Yours too.”

She looked down. “I didn’t cut it. Didn’t want to go anywhere.”

He hesitated. “I almost texted.”

She gave a very slight shake of the head. “Wouldn’t have changed anything.”

He nodded.

The silence stretched.

“Do you want the last strawberry?”

“No, thanks. Well, sure.”

They both reached for it at the same time. Their hands brushed.

She withdrew first.

The camera zoomed in just enough.

Zoey had already eaten three macarons and was eyeing a fourth. Mysterio was sipping his lavender tea with both hands, head tilted slightly as he listened.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said.

He blinked. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. More brooding. Less polite. Maybe a vampire.”

“I’m only like that on stage.”

She leaned forward, chin in hand. “And what are you like off-stage?”

He looked at her, calm and unreadable.

“Quiet. I read. I write things I don’t show anyone. I collect weird postcards.”

Zoey smiled. “Okay, that’s actually cute.”

He looked down. “You’re intense.”

“Thanks.”

“I like it.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

The camera caught the split-second she looked away, biting her lip.

Mysterio just kept sipping tea like he hadn’t just soft-launched a whole romance arc.

I am not sitting in the middle,” Mira snapped as she squeezed between them.

“Too late,” Romance sang, lounging back. “You’re the filling in our scandal sandwich.”

“Gross,” she muttered, stabbing her fork into a kiwi slice.

Abby propped his chin in one hand, eyes lazily drifting over to her. “So what’s your favorite kind of scandal, Mira? Dating? Dancing too seductively? Or throwing hands?”

“Throwing you into the lake, actually.”

Romance burst out laughing. “God, I love this dynamic.”

“She hates you,” Abby pointed out.

“She hates you more.”

“Debatable.”

Mira glared at both of them. “You realize you’re embarrassing yourselves on national television, right?”

“Good TV,” Romance said cheerfully.

“Sexy bickering,” Abby added. “I’m very into it.”

Mira snorted. “You’d be into a toaster if it smirked at you.”

“That toaster better have dimples.”

Romance raised his glass. “To chaos.”

Mira didn’t toast. But she didn’t move away, either.

Baby had now finished his croissant and was stacking sugar packets into a tiny house.

“I know you think I’m lonely,” he said, looking directly at the nearby camera. “But I’m actually just mysterious.”

He placed a single blueberry on the sugar roof.

“Besides, Zoey said she likes chaotic energy. I’m just planting the seeds.”

He sipped his juice like it was a power move.

The producer called for a “fun question round” from the sidelines.

Each table was prompted: “Describe someone at this table in one word.”

Rumi + Jinu

Rumi glanced across the table. “Focused.”

Jinu raised his gaze too. “Unshakable.”

The words weren’t romantic. But their eyes said something else.

Zoey + Mysterio

Zoey pouted and raised her eyebrow as she though. “Unexpected.”

Mysterio's expression was hidden, but his voice seemed amused. “Magnetic.”

Zoey choked on her macaron.

Mira + Abby + Romance

Mira was sulking. “Loud.”

Abby was grinning. “Hot.”

Romance seemed to be throwing someone doting eyes. “Violent.”

Mira just rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue.

The director called cut.

Crews moved in. The cast began to rise, stretch, breathe.

Rumi walked away first. Jinu didn’t follow.

Zoey nudged Mysterio. “You really meant that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Behind them, Abby lightly tapped Mira’s shoulder. “You free later?”

“For what, an ego check?”

“I was gonna say throwing knives, but ego check works.”

Romance appeared behind them with sunglasses he definitely didn’t wear earlier. “Do we all just have chemistry, or is this villa enchanted?”

Mira made a finger gun. “Keep talking and I will test the lake depth.”

The camera crew trailed them back inside.

The brunch had been delicious.

But the aftertaste?

Oh, that was something else.

“Today’s game,” the producer said cheerfully, “is a special relay challenge! Trivia, coordination, trust! And maybe a little swimming, depending on who falls off the dock.”

Zoey immediately raised a hand. “Can we push someone on purpose if it’s for morale?”

“No.”

“Hypothetically?”

“Still no.”

The lake shimmered behind them as the staff set up: one long floating balance beam, a buzzer platform, and some trivia boards. A sign overhead read BEHIND THE BEAT.

Team A: Zoey, Mysterio, Rumi, Baby

Team B: Abby, Mira, Romance, Jinu

Each idol wore color-coded jerseys with their name printed in flashy block letters. Rumi’s was immaculately tucked in. Mira had cut the sleeves off hers. Abby’s was already mysteriously damp.

Two idols from each team had to race across the floating beam, tag the buzzer, and answer a trivia question.

First up: Zoey vs Mira.

They faced each other across the beam, both crouched like cats about to pounce.

“You ready to lose?” Zoey smirked.

“I don’t lose,” Mira said flatly. “I just delay my wins for dramatic effect.”

The whistle blew.

They sprinted.

Zoey slipped once, caught herself, and shoulder-checked Mira mid-beam—who shoved her back with equal force.

They reached the buzzer at the same time, slamming it like it owed them money.

The trivia flashed on a screen:

Q: Name the debut year of Saja Boys.

Zoey hit the button first. “2020.”

Correct.

Team A: 1 point.

Mira scowled. “That was a lucky guess.”

Zoey grinned. “Or I’ve been watching fan edits.”

Two players from each team had to throw and catch water balloons while answering questions. Every dropped balloon = one point to the opposing team.

Rumi and Mysterio stood a few feet apart, catching balloons with impressive calm.

Across the field, Abby and Romance… were not.

“You’re throwing it too soft,” Romance said.

“You’re catching it like it’s a bomb!” Abby snapped.

“It is a bomb—of shame!”

They missed the next one completely.

Rumi answered her question mid-catch:

“Name three tracks on Huntrix’s last EP?”

‘Supernova,’ ‘Bittersweet,’ ‘Delirium.’”

Mysterio caught the balloon like a kitten with reflexes.

Correct.

Team A: 2 points.

Romance and Abby dropped again.

Team A: 3 points.

“You’re sabotaging us!” Abby yelled.

“You’re too distracting!” Romance yelled back.

“You love it!”

“Not the point!”

Mira from the sidelines: “You two done flirting or should I leave?”

Neither responded—but both turned red.

Classic telephone game. Team members had to pass a phrase down the line via whispers, and the last had to recite the original correctly.

Team B huddled first. Jinu started the phrase.

Romance leaned in too close to Abby to pass it on. Abby pushed Romance with his hand. “Back up, your breath smells like sin.” Romance rolled his eyes. “That’s just my essence.”

By the time it got to Mira, the phrase had evolved into something suspicious.

Mira raised an eyebrown “‘Sage is a sexy gnome?’”

Producer read the original sentence. “Original phrase was: ‘The stage is our second home.’”

Wrong. Team A gets a point.

Rumi whispered to Zoey with barely a sound. Zoey passed it to Baby. Baby passed it to Mysterio.

Mysterio answered calmly. "The stage is our second home.”

Correct. Team A: 4 points.

“Are we getting destroyed?” Abby asked.

“Yes,” Jinu muttered.

Team A – 5 points Team B – 3 points

Producer clapped his hands. “Team A wins! You’ll get a free evening this week with no cameras—use it wisely!”

Zoey fist-pumped. Mysterio smiled softly beside her.

Rumi and Baby high-fived, surprisingly in sync.

Mira flopped onto the grass. “Ugh.”

Abby offered her his water bottle. “You were amazing.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, taking it anyway.

Romance flopped down next to her. “We were entertaining, though.”

“You mean annoying,” she said.

“Same thing,” Abby grinned.

Romance tilted his head at him. “You mad you couldn’t keep up?”

“Mad you couldn’t keep your distance.”

“Oh yeah?”

Mira blinked at both of them. “Wait—”

And then Romance grabbed Abby by the jersey collar and kissed him.

Quick. Sharp. Like a dare.

Everyone froze.

Even the crew.

Even Zoey mid-macaron.

Abby pulled back, stunned.

Romance just smirked.

“Had to shut you up somehow.”

“...You think that’ll work?”

“I’m praying it doesn’t.”

They both burst out laughing.

Mira groaned, covering her face. “This villa is cursed.”

Chapter Text

“Okay okay okay, it’s working now—everyone say hi.”

Mira grinned as the livestream chat exploded in neon hearts and emoticons. She adjusted her phone’s angle slightly so her bowl of chips looked like an intentional aesthetic choice and not the emergency snack pile it was.

“This is a judgment-free zone,” she announced. “Yes, I’m still in makeup from the brunch shoot. No, I haven’t changed. Yes, that is Abby’s hoodie—I stole it. No, he can’t have it back.”

More hearts. Some very aggressive typing. One username—RomAbby4L—spammed “EXCUSE ME?!” about five times.

She popped a spicy chip into her mouth and fanned herself with a glittery napkin.

“Let’s talk,” she said with her mouth full. “Q&A. Mukbang. Therapy session. All in one. What do you wanna know? But if it’s about who I like best in the villa, I plead the fifth. Or the fourth. Or whatever amendment lets me avoid lawsuits.”

Chat:

MIRAXCORE: how r u ACTUALLY feeling tho??

sipofrumi: u guys all look tense lately

ROMANCEFIEND12: is abby there rn 

FLIRTTRAP69: you n romance had the most CHEMISTRY i fear

“Okay, wow,” Mira said, raising her eyebrows. “Y’all came for blood today.”

She reached for a strawberry mochi and shoved it into her mouth with dramatic flair. She spoke with exaggerated elegance: “I am fine, darling. My makeup is doing the heavy lifting. And no, I’m not emotionally repressed. I’m just on television.”

There was a knock.

Then a click.

And before Mira could react, Bobby walked into frame.

He was holding a thick folder and looking approximately 87% more stressed than usual.

“Mira,” he said carefully. “Are you—oh, you're live. Great.”

She froze, chewing slowly.

Chat:

ROMABBYTRUTHER: IS THAT BOBBY

GOSSIPJELLY: NOT THE MANAGER WALK-IN

LIVEDRAMA: NDA INCOMING????

NOODLEZ4LIFE: WHAT DID U DO

Bobby gave the camera a flat little wave and then crouched just off to the side, whispering urgently.

“Mira. Gwi-ma just called. We have a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” she whispered back.

“The kind that comes with legal paperwork and a lot of angry sighing.”

She blinked.

He handed her the folder. Mira opened it.

The top sheet read:

NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT ADDENDUM: House Kiss Incident (Unscheduled On-Camera Moment)

She blinked harder.

“Oh my god,” she muttered. “This is about that?”

“Yes.”

“I was just sitting there!”

Bobby stared.

Mira looked at the camera again.

The chat was now in full meltdown mode.

ROMABBY4L: KISS???????

ZOOMEDENHANCED: GUYS REWIND I SAW THE FOLDER

GIRLHELP404: PLS PLS PLS CONFIRM I WILL LITERALLY FAINT

MIRAISTHEDRAMA: are u allowed to even HAVE feelings on this show

Bobby leaned into frame, face serious. “Huntrix fans, hi. We love your energy. Mira is now ending this livestream. Immediately. Because her career matters. Thanks for your time.”

Mira sighed. “Okay, okay! Bye! Love you all. Please don’t screen-record this—oh who am I kidding, you already did.”

She tapped the “end live” button.

The stream ended.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I was eating mochi,” she said. “They weren’t supposed to find out while I was eating mochi.”

Bobby rubbed his temples. “You weren’t even involved in the kiss and it’s still a disaster.”

Mira flipped to the second page of the NDA. “‘Due to romantic misconduct between two Saja Boys—’ romantic misconduct?! Are you kidding me?!”

“Don’t ask me. Ask Gwi-ma.”

“Oh, I will. Loudly.”

She threw herself dramatically onto the beanbag behind her.

“So now we’re all under contract? For a kiss I didn’t even enjoy?”

Bobby sat next to her. “Do you need to file a separate NDA for the hoodie?”

“Please. That’s called fashion.”

He smiled despite himself. “You okay?”

Mira stared at the ceiling. “Yeah. Just… fans are going to go feral. You know they already ship them.”

“They ship everyone. It’s what they do.”

“Well, now they have a clip. A folder. A theory.”

“Maybe keep the hoodie stealing to a minimum for the rest of the week?”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“But you can keep the mochi.”

Mira smirked. “We both know that was never in question.”

The villa was quiet.

Too quiet for a house full of idols, cameras, and scandal.

Rumi slipped out the back door barefoot, her cardigan loose around her shoulders. The night was cool, humid, and humming with summer air. Cicadas buzzed softly in the distance, and the moon hung low—thick and honey-colored over the lake.

She didn’t bring her phone. She didn’t bring shoes.

She just needed to float.

The dock creaked as she stepped onto it, holding her breath out of habit. It wasn’t rebellion. It wasn’t even secretive. It was peace. The one place the noise of the day couldn’t reach her.

Rumi slipped out of her cardigan and set it gently on the bench. Then, quiet as a sigh, she lowered herself into the lake.

The water was cool. Not cold. It wrapped around her like a memory. Her breath hitched. She let her hair float around her like a crown and tilted her face to the stars.

No mics. No lights. No makeup.

Just her.

The cameras on the villa rooftop rotated with a soft mechanical whirr.

“Out for a midnight swim?”

The voice made her gasp.

Rumi turned sharply—only to see Jinu standing at the edge of the dock, half in shadow. He was barefoot too, sweatpants rolled up. A white t-shirt clung to him in the humidity.

Her heart skipped.

“You scared me,” she said softly.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to.”

Rumi looked away. “Did Bobby send you to make sure I wasn’t drowning or...?”

“No one knows I’m here.”

A beat passed.

“You can come in,” she said, voice barely above the ripple of water.

He hesitated for only a second before tugging off his shirt and stepping down the ladder, slow and quiet. When he slid into the lake beside her, he didn’t make a sound.

The moon painted soft silver lines across his collarbones. Rumi looked away first.

For a moment, they just floated. The only sounds were water lapping gently at their skin and a distant owl in the woods.

“I missed this,” Jinu said.

Rumi glanced over. “Swimming?”

“You.”

She closed her eyes. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it still hurts.”

“I know.”

They drifted in silence again.

After a minute, Jinu said, “Do you remember the lake in Jeju?”

Rumi smiled faintly despite herself. “The freezing one?”

“You dared me to jump in and then immediately panicked when I actually did it.”

“I thought you hit your head!”

“I think you just liked yelling at me.”

She laughed—quiet and sudden. It cracked something inside her.

“You were shaking so bad I gave you my coat,” she added.

“And I kept it for a week.”

“Do you still have it?”

He looked at her, something warm and devastating in his eyes. “I do.”

She turned her face toward the stars again. “Why did we stop?”

His voice was soft. “Because it was too hard to pretend.”

“To pretend what?”

“That it didn’t matter.”

The water shimmered between them.

“I kept thinking,” he said, “that if we took space... if we just had time... maybe we’d come back clearer. Less afraid.”

Rumi met his eyes. “And did we?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I never stopped hoping.”

Rumi’s throat tightened. “Me either.”

A soft breeze swept across the lake. She drifted a little closer to him without meaning to.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said.

“But I want to.”

His breath hitched.

She looked at him—really looked. Moonlight caught the faintest shimmer of water on his lashes. He looked scared. He looked real.

“I thought being apart would make it easier,” Rumi whispered. “But every time something happened, I wanted to tell you. Every time I was proud, or sad, or just... alive. It was always you.”

Jinu didn’t speak.

She reached out slowly, fingertips brushing his wrist underwater. He didn’t pull away.

“I love you,” she said.

He exhaled, shaky. “I love you too.”

They didn’t kiss.

They just drifted closer, resting forehead to forehead in the quiet dark. His hand found hers beneath the surface, fingers threading together gently.

Neither of them saw the camera light blink red on the villa roof.

The villa was asleep.

Or pretending to be.

Zoey crept down the back stairs barefoot, hoodie too big and sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her hair was tied in a lazy knot. No eyeliner. No glitter.

Just her and a pack of cigarettes tucked into the waistband of her shorts.

She didn’t usually. Not when cameras were around. But tonight she felt like her skin was too tight. Like the silence in the house was crawling into her lungs and refusing to leave.

The patio doors creaked as she slipped outside. The sky was ink-black, the stars blurry behind city haze. She crossed the garden barefoot and disappeared behind the hedge wall near the storage shed.

Safe.

Out of view.

She pulled one cigarette out and held it between her fingers.

Then cursed.

No lighter.

Of course.

She groaned, leaning against the shed, cigarette drooping from her lips.

“You always this bad at sneaking out?” said a voice.

Zoey startled so hard she dropped the cigarette. “Shit!”

She turned.

Baby was leaning against the edge of the shed, hands in his hoodie pocket, head tilted slightly.

His hair was a mess. He looked like he’d rolled out of bed five minutes ago—or maybe hadn’t slept at all.

“I—” she started, then stopped. “What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn't sleep.”

“Why are you always... everywhere?”

He shrugged. “Why are you smoking behind the shed?”

Zoey folded her arms. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not your RA.”

“You’re obnoxious.”

“You’re predictable.”

“Excuse me?”

He moved closer. Not close enough to crowd her. Just enough to reach into his pocket and pull out a lighter.

Silver. Clean. Worn at the edges.

He flicked it once. Flame.

Zoey blinked. “You smoke?”

“Sometimes.” He gestured with the lighter. “You want this or not?”

She hesitated, then picked up her dropped cigarette and leaned in. The lighter flame touched the tip. She inhaled once.

It lit.

Baby clicked the lighter shut and slid it back into his hoodie.

They stood there in silence for a moment. Just smoke, quiet, and stars they couldn’t see.

“You’re not gonna ask me why I do it?” Zoey muttered.

“No.”

“You’re not curious?”

“I’m not judgmental.”

She looked at him sideways. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’m not always smug.”

Zoey snorted. “Yeah, and I’m not always happy.”

“I believe that.”

Another beat of silence.

She exhaled smoke into the dark. “It’s just noise, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being famous. Being watched. Being someone.”

Baby nodded.

“You ever feel like,” she continued, voice lower now, “the more people see you, the less they know you?”

“All the time.”

She looked at him.

He didn’t look cocky. Or smug. Or like he was about to tease her.

He just looked... real. Tired. Still.

She took another drag. He pulled out a cigarette of his own and lit it without fanfare. They smoked in synchronized silence.

No flirting.

No giggles.

Just a shared vice.

“Do the others know?” she asked.

“That I smoke?” He shrugged. “Maybe. Don’t think they care.”

“Do you care that I do?”

“No.”

She nodded, quiet again.

“You’re different like this,” she said.

“So are you.”

They didn’t say goodbye.

They didn’t promise not to tell.

When they finished, Baby crushed his cigarette under his heel and disappeared back into the villa like he’d never been there.

Zoey stayed a little longer.

Romance was still in the bathroom brushing his teeth when the door slammed open.

He flinched, mouth full of foam.

Abby, half-dressed, looked up from his bed like a teenager caught with a stolen phone.

Gwi-ma stormed in, waving a file folder like it was a weapon forged from stress and unfiled tax forms.

“WHAT—THE HELL—WAS THAT?!”

Romance blinked. “Uh…”

“Don’t even try,” Gwi-ma snapped. “Don’t speak. Just listen.”

Romance spat his toothpaste into the sink. “Is this about the kiss?”

“Is this about the—” Gwi-ma let out a sound so sharp it probably gave someone on the production team heartburn. “You kissed each other on camera. In full view. On a reality show. With sponsors. With contracts.”

Abby raised his hands. “We were caught in the moment.”

“Oh, were you also caught in the same moment last year when I covered for your rooftop photo leak?”

Romance muttered, “That was an artistic selfie—”

“And the year before that,” Gwi-ma continued, ignoring him, “when you were mysteriously spotted in a hotel lobby in matching outfits?”

“That wasn’t us,” Abby lied. Instantly.

Gwi-ma threw the folder on the floor. “It’s been three years. Three years of damage control, bribery, rearranged tour schedules, and negotiating with brands who do not want to sell face cream with public dating scandals. And now everyone in this house is getting slapped with NDAs because you two can’t keep your mouths or your lips to yourselves.”

Romance sat on the edge of the tub. “We weren’t trying to cause drama.”

Gwi-ma pointed at him. “You are drama. You’re a scandal in skinny jeans. You’re the reason I drink decaf at night.”

Abby crossed his arms. “So what, we’re just never supposed to... feel anything?”

“You can feel all you want,” Gwi-ma barked. “Just don’t broadcast it to the nation!”

Romance raised an eyebrow. “So it’s fine if we’re together as long as no one knows?”

Gwi-ma’s eye twitched. “Are you together?”

Silence.

Abby looked at Romance. Romance looked back.

They didn’t say yes.

They didn’t say no.

Gwi-ma groaned. “You’re on again, aren’t you.”

Romance shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends.”

“On what?”

“If Abby stops acting like a smug bastard.”

Abby smiled sweetly. “If Romance stops acting like I’m replaceable.”

“YOU ARE REPLACEABLE,” Gwi-ma shouted.

They both turned toward him.

“No offense,” he muttered. “I mean, I love you boys. You make me money. But if I could fire just one of you...”

Romance stood. “So what now? You make everyone sign NDAs and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Yes. Exactly. Everyone’s getting locked down. No one flirts. No one touches. No one breathes romantically. Especially you two.”

Abby flopped back onto the bed. “This is so dramatic.”

“YOU KISSED ON CAMERA,” Gwi-ma said again, fully unhinged. “I have sponsors calling me at 2AM! I had to pretend it was edited! Do you know what it’s like to lie to a CEO at 2AM?!”

Romance held up a finger. “Respectfully—”

“NO. NO MORE RESPECTFULLY. I am your manager, not your couples therapist, not your chaos wrangler, not your PR wizard. I am tired. I am balding. And if you ruin this show, I swear to God—”

There was a knock at the door.

“WHAT?!”

A meek intern peeked in. “Sir, the crew’s ready for the group scene in ten?”

Gwi-ma pointed two trembling fingers at Romance and Abby. “Smile. Apologize. Sign the damn NDA. And if you so much as touch knees on camera, I will personally draft your disbandment letters.”

He stormed out, muttering threats.

The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence.

Romance sat on the edge of Abby’s bed. “So. That went well.”

Abby snorted.

“Are we seriously on NDAs now?”

“Guess so.”

They looked at each other.

Then both burst out laughing.

Romance leaned back on his elbows. “You know... I thought it’d feel worse.”

Abby rolled over, propping himself up on one elbow. “But it doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” Romance said. “Because it was worth it.”

Abby’s smile dropped slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Romance said quietly. “Because I wanted to.”

He looked at Abby.

“You did too, right?”

Abby rolled onto his back, covering his face with a pillow. “Don’t make me say it. I’m already the villain in this fanfic.”

Romance chuckled and flopped down beside him.

Their hands didn’t touch.

But they weren’t far apart, either.

“Okay, idols!” the producer called out cheerfully, clipboard in hand and earpiece buzzing. “Today’s theme is Cooking With Chaos! You'll be working in pairs to create a signature dish representing your group’s ‘flavor.’ Fun, bonding, aesthetic disaster. Let’s go!”

Everyone smiled.

Everyone faked smiling.

The crew buzzed around the lakeside outdoor kitchen setup, multiple cameras angled just right to capture the beautiful tension-filled silence that had settled over the house like pollen in spring.

The problem wasn’t the cameras.

It wasn’t even the cooking.

The problem was what happened before the cameras rolled—and what no one was allowed to talk about now.

“Want to chop the vegetables?” Baby asked gently.

Zoey nodded, wordless.

He handed her the knife, their hands brushing. She didn’t flinch—just tucked her chin down and focused on slicing red peppers like they owed her money.

They hadn’t spoken since the night behind the shed.

But he hadn’t told anyone.

And that silence had said more than any tease could’ve.

“You’re quiet today,” he said.

Zoey shrugged. “Didn’t sleep.”

Baby said nothing. Just stirred the sauce gently, standing a little closer than necessary.

The camera panned past. They both smiled.

For the show.

“Do you even know how to cook?” Mira asked.

“Emotionally or technically?”

She gave him a look.

“Emotionally, yes. Technically, I’m a health hazard.”

They were supposed to be making fried rice. Abby was currently trying to peel garlic with a butter knife.

Mira took it from him. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m hot. That’s different.”

“You’re lucky I don’t throw this pan at your face.”

Abby leaned against the counter with his easy, knowing smile. “Romance said the same thing yesterday.”

Mira nearly dropped the soy sauce.

“Cool,” she said flatly.

Cool.

They worked in silence for a moment. The air between them was sharp and hot, and the camera couldn’t stop lingering on them. Every time they got closer, the chat would probably explode.

“You’re not mad?” Abby asked suddenly, quiet now.

Mira glanced at him. “About what?”

“Me and Romance.”

She looked away. “No. You just... surprised me.”

“Not in a good way?”

Mira didn’t answer.

The garlic sizzled in the oil.

Of all the chaos they could’ve planned, pairing Rumi with Mystery was a bold production choice.

They stood in complete contrast: she was calm, organized, silent. He was bored, hot, and stirring rice like it owed him rent.

“You ever done this before?” she asked without looking up.

“Only for exes. Usually when I’m apologizing.”

“You cook when you apologize?”

“Just omelettes. Easy to eat. And symbolic.”

“Of?”

“How fragile I am emotionally.”

Rumi blinked. “…Okay.”

He didn’t flirt. He didn’t make jokes about her being pretty or graceful or idol perfection.

He just cooked, kind of seriously, like he was trying to prove he could.

Eventually he said, “You and Jinu okay?”

Rumi paused.

“We’re figuring it out.”

“Cool,” he said, flipping the egg. “I like him. I don’t wanna punch him. That’s rare.”

She smiled for the first time in hours. “He’d probably cry if you did.”

“Oh, I’d cry first. Ruin the moment.”

Rumi let out a soft laugh. The camera caught it.

The moment they were paired, someone on the production crew whispered, “This is going to be awkward.”

And they were right.

Romance kept doing double-takes like Jinu was holding a secret. Jinu, for his part, was focused solely on the task, mixing the batter with Olympic precision.

Romance finally leaned in. “So… you and Rumi?”

Jinu kept stirring. “We talked.”

“Like… talked?”

“Yeah.”

Romance squinted. “Talked, or talked talked?”

Jinu gave him a look. “Do you want to talk about what you did yesterday?”

Romance shut up real fast.

They cooked in silence after that.

The tension was so thick, the crew later debated if they should put a “DO NOT BREATHE” warning on the footage.

All eight idols sat around the outdoor picnic table as the sun set—plates in front of them, cameras hovering like flies.

The food was edible. Barely.

Mystery's omelette was overcooked. Mira and Abby’s rice was weirdly spicy. Zoey’s peppers were cut beautifully but tasted like regret. Romance and Jinu made pancakes. Why? No one knew.

No one talked much.

Even Bobby noticed it from behind the monitors.

“Why is everyone acting like someone died?” he muttered. “Smile! Joke! Banter!”

Gwi-ma crossed his arms and deadpanned, “They’re all in love and legally silenced. This is your fault.”

Bobby groaned into his headset.

Back on set, Mira chewed her food like it personally offended her.

Rumi picked at hers and kept glancing at Jinu when she thought the cameras weren’t looking.

Zoey caught Baby watching her and immediately looked away.

Romance leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So... do we pretend nothing happened, or do we lean in?”

Abby smirked, “I think we’re contractually obligated to do neither.”

Laughter bubbled at the table for the first time all day. Soft. Nervous. Real.

The cameras caught it.

The editors marked it as gold.

Chapter Text

“This is so unfair,” Baby whined, adjusting his sunglasses as he squinted up at the hill ahead. “We’re idols. Not mountain goats.”

“You didn’t even bring water,” Zoey pointed out, holding a thermos and two packs of protein snacks like a suburban mom on a school trip.

“I brought charm and good looks. Hydrating enough.”

“Your charm has never quenched thirst,” she muttered.

The camera operators followed close behind, weaving through the trees like trained forest ninjas. The producers were trailing the group with a “just casual” steadicam rig and three GoPros strapped to sticks.

Rumi walked ahead, a bit removed from the others. She wasn’t avoiding anyone—just quiet. The trees were beautiful. The filtered sunlight painted dappled patterns across the dirt path, and the sound of laughter from the others floated faintly behind her.

Bobby had sold this as a “mental refresh outing,” a little morning hike to a scenic overlook followed by lunch in a quiet village nearby.

It sounded perfect.

It looked perfect.

But her thoughts were anything but.

She had meant to stick close to the group, but the path forked somewhere behind her, and she didn’t look back.

“Where’s Rumi?” Jinu asked about ten minutes later, panting slightly as he lagged behind the main group.

Mira glanced around. “She was ahead of us.”

“Yeah, like… way ahead,” Baby added. “She’s probably halfway to Switzerland by now.”

Abby shielded his eyes from the sun. “I don’t see her anywhere.”

Jinu stopped walking.

No sign of her. Not even her pink hoodie or the soft hum she always carried when she thought no one was listening.

“She’s not on the trail,” he said quietly. His chest tightened. “She’s not on the trail.”

Mysterio looked toward the trees. “You think she took the wrong turn?”

“I—I don’t know,” Jinu muttered. “But I have to go find her.”

“Wait, hang on—” one of the assistant producers tried to call after him, but it was too late.

Jinu took off back down the trail, already calling her name.

“Rumi?!”

His heart was beating faster than it should’ve been. Maybe it was the hike. Maybe it was panic.

Maybe it was because they hadn’t defined anything since the swim, since that quiet moment of we still love each other.

He couldn’t lose her again.

Back near the fork in the path, the main group was gathering and confusion had fully set in.

“Okay, okay,” Bobby said, trying to stay cheerful but very much sweating under the stress. “Let’s not panic—yet. They probably just wandered a little off-trail.”

“‘Wandered’ sounds very not on-camera,” Gwi-ma muttered.

“We have their mics,” the lead sound tech pointed out, “but Jinu and Rumi’s are both off.”

“Perfect,” Gwi-ma snapped. “We’re making a silent film now.”

“Let’s split into groups,” one of the PDs suggested. “Each with a camera. Search in pairs or trios. It’ll be good content.”

“Good content? They’re lost.” Bobby hissed.

“Yes,” the PD said brightly. “But with heartwarming visuals.”

Zoey, who’d been fussing with Baby’s slightly askew backpack, looked up. “Are we seriously turning this into a segment?”

Baby leaned on her like a lazy cat. “You can hold my hand if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You’re always scared. That I’ll steal your spotlight.”

Zoey gently smacked him with a protein bar. “You’d trip over it.”

Back in the woods, Rumi was officially lost.

She’d realized it ten minutes ago and tried not to panic. She’d called out a few times. No answer. She didn’t want to leave the trail—or what she thought was the trail—and had started pacing in small circles trying to recognize any landmarks.

Nothing.

No pink ribbons from the crew.

No distant voices.

Just birdsong and trees that looked far too identical.

Then she heard it, a yell.

“RUMI!”

Her heart nearly stopped. “Jinu?!”

She spun around just in time to see him jog into view, breathless and flushed.

“There you are!” he exhaled.

“You came back?”

“Of course I came back,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“I—I think I took the wrong fork in the path. I kept walking but… I didn’t want to go too far.”

Jinu nodded, scanning the area. “It’s fine. We’ll just retrace your steps. Easy.”

She nodded too, but her hands were tight around her sleeves.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He looked at her. “For what?”

“For getting you lost too.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said. “I just— I didn’t know where you were. I was scared.”

She looked down.

“I thought we were okay now,” she said quietly.

“We are.”

“Then why do I feel like we’re still standing on opposite sides of something?”

He swallowed hard. “Because we haven’t figured out what we are when no one’s watching.”

Rumi looked at him.

Before she could speak, a twig snapped in the distance.

Both froze.

But it was just a bird.

They shared a breathless laugh. Nervous. Stuck. Together.

He offered her his hand. “Let’s find the way back.”

She took it.

They walked in silence at first.

Birdsong hummed softly through the trees, and somewhere far away, a woodpecker knocked against bark like a warning.

Rumi could hear her own footsteps.

The quiet between them was thicker than the forest.

Jinu was holding a branch back for her, and when she stepped under it, her shoulder brushed his.

She didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

The moment he’d found her, she’d been relieved. Genuinely, desperately relieved.

But now?

Now she felt that weird swirl of guilt and something else. That thing that had crept in between them even before the break. That feeling of… too much weight and not enough air.

She sighed. “We’re not walking in circles, right?”

“I think we’re fine,” Jinu said, scanning the woods. “The sun’s starting to lower over that hill, which means we’re still heading west.”

She nodded, pretending she understood.

Another pause.

“Do you ever feel like this whole thing’s too fragile?” she asked suddenly.

Jinu blinked. “What thing?”

“This. Us. The way it always feels like we’re one step away from breaking.”

He slowed down. “Why are you saying that?”

“I’m just asking.”

His jaw tightened. “Well, yeah, Rumi. It’s fragile. We’re not normal people. We’re idols. Everything we do is watched, dissected, flipped into a headline.”

“I know that.”

“So then what’s your point?”

“I don’t know!” she snapped. “I got lost, Jinu, and the first thing I thought wasn’t ‘I’m scared’—it was ‘he’s going to think I ruined everything again.’”

He stopped walking.

She did too.

“…Is that really what you think of me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she said. “But it’s what I think of me. And I hate it. I hate how scared I am that I’ll mess it up. That I already messed it up. That you’ll wake up one day and say it’s not worth it.”

“I never said that,” he replied.

“I know.”

“But you keep assuming I will.”

Rumi’s eyes burned. “Because I know I’m hard to be with.”

“You’re not hard to be with,” he said immediately, firmly. “You’re hard on yourself. That’s different.”

They stood there for a moment. Just breathing.

The forest was quiet again. The sun filtering through the leaves was turning golden.

Jinu exhaled and stepped forward, closing the space between them.

“I didn’t chase after you just because I was scared you were lost,” he said. “I chased after you because you’re the one person I always want to be found by.”

That broke her.

She looked down, blinking fast.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he said. “I know it’s been weird lately. Not knowing if we’re allowed to touch, or talk, or even look at each other without it ending up on a blog.”

“It’s not just that,” she said, voice smaller now. “It’s how real it feels when we’re alone. It’s scary.”

He reached for her hand, but slower this time. She didn’t flinch. Their fingers linked naturally.

“You know what’s scarier?” he said.

“What?”

“Letting all of that fear win.”

She looked at him.

“I don’t want to be the guy who looks back in five years and wonders if I could’ve been brave enough to stay,” he continued. “I want to be the guy who kept showing up for you. Even when you wander off and get lost.”

She laughed, shaky. “I didn’t mean to wander off.”

“I know. But even if you did—I'd still come find you.”

He tugged her forward a bit, and they began walking again—closer this time.

No more inches of doubt between them.

Rumi looked up through the trees. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get back. The show. The cameras. Everything…”

“I do,” he said.

She tilted her head.

“I’m going to tell Gwi-ma and Bobby,” Jinu said. “Tell him I’m done pretending.”

Her eyes widened. “Jinu—”

“I don’t care. I’ll take the blame. Let them say it was me. Let them say I chased you. That I begged.”

“…You did beg.”

“Exactly.”

She laughed again. Warmer this time.

“You’re a fool.”

“I’m your fool,” he replied.

She stopped walking.

He turned.

And in that quiet sliver of sunlight between trees, she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “We’re back together.”

Jinu beamed.

It was like watching the sun rise behind someone’s eyes.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“No,” she said honestly. “But I don’t want to wait until I am. I want to try. Again.”

He pulled her into a hug.

And for the first time in months, she felt like she was standing in something instead of hovering above it—like she wasn’t waiting to be caught or blamed or cut loose.

She was just there.

With him.

The camera drone whirred faintly in the far distance.

Neither of them heard it.

“Okay, okay, so—new plan,” one of the PDs clapped her hands, a little too cheerfully for someone mid-emergency. “We’re splitting into two teams. Each group has a GoPro rig and a mic pack. It’s still content, just... lost and found themed.”

“You mean survival horror,” Zoey muttered.

“Group A!” the PA called, ignoring the panic. “Zoey, Mysterio, Baby. Group B—Mira, Romance, Abby. Go!”

“Why do I feel like this is a bad idea,” Mysterio whispered as Zoey shoved a protein bar in Baby’s mouth and grabbed a bug spray can like a weapon.

“Because it is,” Zoey said grimly. “And if anyone gets eaten by a bear, I’m blaming Gwi-ma.”

“Do bears even live here?” Baby asked, chewing.

“They do now,” Zoey said. “Stick close.”

Baby was already lagging ten steps behind, distracted by the butterflies.

“Stay close!” Zoey called.

“I am close.”

“You’re twenty feet back and singing.”

“I’m setting the mood!”

Mysterio jogged to catch up with Zoey. “He’s like a toddler on sugar.”

“He’s like five toddlers stacked in a trench coat,” Zoey corrected. “You have no idea how much I’m holding myself back from putting him on a leash.”

“You’re... really good at this, you know,” Mysterio said.

“At parenting?”

“At... managing chaos.”

Zoey snorted. “I’m not good at it. I’m just used to it.”

He smiled softly. “Still. You’re amazing.”

She flushed and turned away slightly. “Tell me that again when we’re not mosquito bait.”

Behind them, Baby stumbled over a root and dramatically collapsed. “This is it! This is how I die! Take my footage and turn it into a tribute montage!”

Zoey didn’t miss a beat. “Get up or I’ll leave you for the birds.”

“Cruel,” Baby said, grinning as he stood. “You’d make a terrifying mom.”

“I am a terrifying mom.”

Mysterio caught Baby by the back of his hoodie and pulled him forward. “She’s scary because she cares.”

“Ew,” Baby said. “Feelings.”

Zoey rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Still—she smiled a little.

“This is the worst team-up in the history of K-pop,” Mira said as they trekked through the brush.

“Agreed,” Romance muttered. “Why am I stuck between my ex and my other ex?”

“Other ex?” Abby blinked. “Since when?”

“Since I watched you kiss me and then flirt with her on camera,” Romance said.

Mira held up a hand. “Don’t drag me into your situationship.”

“We’re not in a situationship,” Abby said.

Romance arched an eyebrow. “Then what are we?”

Abby opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Mira snorted. “Exactly.”

The three of them fell into a grumbly, mildly toxic silence.

But underneath it all, Abby kept glancing over—first at Mira, then at Romance. Like he was trying to gauge who hated him less. (Answer: debatable.)

They passed a mossy log and paused to check the compass app on Romance’s phone.

“Still nothing?” Mira asked.

“No signal,” Romance said. “But we’re heading northeast. The crew said they last saw Rumi heading west—so Jinu probably followed her that way.”

“Cool. So we’re heading in the wrong direction.”

“We’ll loop around.”

“I swear if I get poison ivy because you two can’t keep your lips to yourselves—”

“It was one kiss,” Abby said.

Mira glared. “Tell that to the NDA Gwi-ma shoved in my face this morning.”

Romance winced.

Abby ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah. We’re a mess.”

“You think?”

“But we’re your mess,” he added.

Mira blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, if you’re going to be stuck in a reality show forest hell,” Abby said, grinning, “you could do worse than us.”

Romance groaned. “Stop trying to make that line work. It’s not charming.”

Back with Group A, Baby had somehow found a walking stick and was pretending to be a forest wizard.

“I name this trail Rumi’s Wrath!” he laughed to himself.

Zoey sighed. “We’re never finding them at this rate.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Mysterio said softly beside her.

Zoey looked over.

He was watching Baby fondly.

“Why not?”

“Because if Jinu’s anything, he’s stubborn,” Mysterio said. “He wouldn’t stop looking until he found her.”

Zoey nodded slowly.

“Still,” she said, “I wish we knew they were okay.”

“They’re okay,” he said.

Zoey took another step and tripped slightly—Baby immediately bolted over.

“Are you hurt?! Did the forest claim you?!”

“I’m fine.”

He dusted off her knees anyway.

Zoey sighed.

“We’re officially lost,” Rumi declared, flopping down onto a mossy patch of ground between two trees. “I give up. This forest wins.”

Jinu sank down beside her with a groan. “I think we’ve looped past that weird rock three times.”

“Four,” she corrected. “It has a chip shaped like a heart. I started keeping track.”

They both leaned back against the tree trunk, letting the silence settle between them.

It was soft out here.

Quiet.

No boom mics, no drone hums, no producers whispering through headsets.

Just the distant chirp of birds and the occasional breeze rustling the leaves.

“Do you think they’re freaking out?” Rumi asked.

“Definitely,” Jinu said. “Bobby’s probably calling the police. Gwi-ma’s probably blaming us for the collapse of the entertainment industry.”

She snorted.

Then went quiet again.

It wasn’t uncomfortable. Not anymore.

The panic had drained out of both of them. The pressure, too. And maybe it was the way the sunlight streamed lazily through the trees—but for a moment, it felt like they weren’t on a show at all.

Like the outside world didn’t exist.

“I missed this,” Jinu said quietly.

Rumi glanced at him.

“This?” she asked. “Getting lost?”

“No,” he said. “You. Us. Like this. When you’re not guarded and I’m not overthinking.”

She looked down at her knees. Picked at a loose thread in her sleeve.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Me too.”

He shifted a little, letting his shoulder brush hers.

“You know what I thought about,” he said, “when we stopped talking?”

“…What?”

“That night after rehearsal,” he said. “We were leaving the studio, and you were wearing that giant hoodie and you just… leaned into me. Like it was nothing. Like we were the only two people in the world.”

Rumi smiled softly. “I remember that. You smelled like spicy ramen.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Fine,” he said, laughing. “I did.”

Another pause.

Then Rumi said, “I didn’t stop thinking about you, either. Even when I was mad. Even when I thought we might not fix it.”

Jinu nodded.

“I tried to write a song about it,” he said.

She turned to him, surprised.

“I didn’t get far,” he admitted. “I just kept writing the same line: I don’t know what to say if I’m not saying it to you.”

Rumi was quiet.

Then she reached over—hesitant—and took his hand.

He let her.

They sat like that for a while. Fingers laced, heads leaned together.

Then, slowly, Rumi tipped her head onto his shoulder.

“Let’s just stay here for a minute,” she whispered.

Jinu smiled, eyes closing. “Okay.”

No drama.

No pressure.

Just them.

The camera drone, silently hovering high in the canopy above them, recorded every second.

“Wait—wait—I’ve got something!” a production assistant yelled, running through the brush with a tablet in hand. “The drone! The drone found them!”

Bobby practically tackled her for the screen. “Don’t joke about that right now, Min.”

“I’m serious!” she said, spinning the screen. “Look!”

The footage was clear: Rumi, nestled into Jinu’s side, his arms around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. They weren’t talking. Just… holding each other. Heads leaned close. Eyes closed.

Peaceful.

Unmistakable.

Bobby covered his mouth.

“Oh my god,” whispered the other PA. “That’s not vague tension. That’s—couple softcore.”

Gwi-ma, standing over their shoulder with a furrowed brow, muttered, “Please tell me that was filmed on the broken drone.”

“Nope,” Min said. “Full 4K. Boom mics didn’t catch anything—thank god—but we have visuals from two angles. Backlight, lens flare, soft-focus forest mist. It’s... beautifully damning.”

Bobby slumped onto a log, hands over his face.

“Should we call them?” another staffer asked.

“No,” Gwi-ma said flatly. “Film crew’s already close. Let them walk into it. Just… keep the cameras rolling.”

“RUMI?” Mira shouted. “JINU?!”

No answer.

“Should we whistle?” Abby asked. “I’m good at whistling. Like really—”

“No,” Mira said. “Last time you tried to whistle you choked on gum.”

Romance jogged a few steps ahead, shielding his eyes. “Hey—there! I see the camera crew!”

They burst into a small clearing—just in time to see Rumi and Jinu, still curled together against the base of a tree. He was stroking her arm absentmindedly. Her eyes were still closed.

It took them a second to notice.

Then Rumi blinked, startled. Sat up fast. Jinu blinked next to her, disoriented.

“Wh—what?”

“Found you,” Abby said with a grin. “Super romantic. Hope you don’t mind we’re recording it for the world.”

Rumi flushed deep pink. Jinu stiffened. Their hands were still tangled together.

The boom mic hovered above them like a halo of doom.

Romance blinked at the setup. “Are you… dating again?”

Rumi opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked at Jinu.

“…Yeah,” he said. “We are.”

The next morning, Zoey opened her phone and groaned.

“Already thirty edit fanvids,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Two hour-long conspiracy breakdowns. Someone animated the hug.”

“Do we get royalties for that?” Baby asked, stealing a pancake.

Rumi blushed as she entered the room, Jinu trailing just behind.

Everyone clapped.

Mira yelled, “CONGRATS ON THE SCANDAL!”

Abby added, “Romance and I are so proud of you. Trailblazers.”

Romance, half-asleep, held up a peace sign.

Bobby walked in last, holding a mug that said I’m Not Crying, You’re Crying.

“I cannot believe you gave us this much usable footage,” he muttered, passing by them. “You’ve out-softed every couple I’ve ever managed. Congrats. You’re real now.”

Jinu beamed.

Rumi tucked into breakfast, a little less tense than yesterday.

A little more home.