I was alone in the corridor, the silence stretching around me like a second skin. I had been holding it together—barely. The sting of Sunghoon's words, the way he looked at me like I was a stranger... it all echoed louder than my own heartbeat.
"Are you okay?"
Jay's voice came gently from behind me. I turned quickly, wiping my face with the back of my sleeve. He caught the motion, his eyes narrowing just slightly.
"I'm fine," I lied, offering a small, strained smile.
But he didn't believe me. I could tell. He looked at me with that soft, knowing gaze—the one that didn't push but still saw everything. And maybe that was worse. Because I wasn't ready to fall apart. Not yet.
Still, he nodded like he believed me.
We walked together back into the makeup room, the light suddenly too bright, the air too loud. I followed Jay to his chair, trying to focus on my job, not the ache still sitting heavy in my chest.
The door opened again, and a senior makeup artist entered, clipboard in hand and voice sharp with command.
"Let's move quickly. Idol call in twenty. Jiwon——Sunghoon's makeup."
My breath caught.
I looked at her, then at him—he was already sitting down at the far end of the room, staring ahead blankly, like none of it mattered.
But it did.
I walked over slowly, makeup tools trembling in my hand. Every step closer pulled me deeper into the mess of things I didn't understand. I stood behind him, eyes catching his in the mirror. And when they did, I flinched—just barely, but enough.
He didn't look away.
The silence between us was loud. Deafening.
I cleared my throat. "You'll need to change your shirt," I said softly, avoiding his eyes. "I can't do your lips until you do."
Without saying a word, he got up and left the chair, heading into the changing area. No nod. No sound. Just gone.
He returned a minute later, still silent. He sat again, eyes fixed on the mirror, but his thoughts were clearly somewhere else.
I tried not to focus on the way my hands shook. I picked up the base color for his lips and dabbed a little on the back of my hand. I always used my hands—it made the product warmer, smoother. It always worked.
I leaned in, ring finger raised, and the moment I touched his lips—he moved.
His hand caught my wrist.
"Do you really have to do this with your hand?" His voice cut through the quiet, low but not unkind. "You could use a clean brush."
He'd been deep in thought seconds before, but my touch had snapped him out of it.
I blinked, taken aback. "I always use my hands to do this..." I murmured. "You never had a problem before."
There was a pause. His gaze darkened—not with anger, but something far more complicated.
"But today is different," he said.
My heart squeezed.
His hand was still holding mine—not tightly, but enough to still me, to keep me anchored in that one impossible moment.
And then, just as suddenly, he let go.
The warmth disappeared, leaving behind only confusion.
I didn't even have time to process it because—
"Jiwon!"
Jay's voice called again from behind. Bright. Carefree. Unknowing.
But Sunghoon heard it before anyone.
"You should go," he said quickly, not even looking at me. "Continue with him."
It hit me harder than I expected.
I stared at him, confused, as if he'd just handed off something precious... something that wasn't his to give away, but that he gave anyway.
His jaw was tight, eyes unreadable.
I hesitated. Just for a moment. I waited—hoped—for something else. A word. A look. A reason to stay.
But he didn't give it.
So I turned, and walked away with a thousand questions in my chest and no answers to hold onto..