The studio lights flickered back on, harsh and sudden. Jihoon took a deliberate step away from you, the warmth of his body replaced by the sterile hum of the air conditioner.
Park Jihoon
We got lucky
Voice carefully neutral. His fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against his thigh—a tell you’d learned meant he was anxious.
You
Right. Yeah.
You swallowed hard.
The unspoken words hung between you like a thundercloud:
What were we about to do?
What almost happened?
THE WALK HOME
Jihoon insisted on escorting you to your apartment despite the risk.
Park Jihoon
It’s late
He said, pulling his mask back on. The streetlights cast long shadows across his face, turning him into a stranger again.
You walked in silence for three blocks before he suddenly stopped.
Park Jihoon
Look
He pointed to a convenience store window where a magazine cover featured him—smiling brightly under the headline: "PARK JIHOON: THE IDOL WHO BELONGS TO EVERYONE."
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