Yoon Jeonghan had always been the angel the world adored-perfect smile, perfect life. But perfection was a mask, and behind it was a secret darker than anyone knew. Stalking had never been part of the plan. Yet here he was, eyes glued to Choi Seungc...
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The golden hour painted the park in hues of warmth and honey, and Jun was in his element, the lens of his camera capturing slices of joy and beauty around him. But today, his focus drifted, lost in the blur of everyday scenes until he noticed him.
Under the shade of a grand oak tree, a boy sat, surrounded by the quiet hum of nature and deep in his own world. His profile was lit softly by streaks of sunlight, delicate features set in concentration as he painted, oblivious to everything else. Jun felt a pull he couldn't explain. It was more than curiosity—it was an ache, a subtle thrum that made his pulse quicken. The boy’s serene aura made everything else seem trivial.
He's... breathtaking, Jun thought, the realization catching him off-guard. There was a fragility to the boy, a quiet, unassuming beauty that made him seem almost untouchable. Yet, Jun’s feet carried him forward, defying the part of him that wanted to stand back and admire from afar.
The boy looked up when Jun tapped his shoulder, pulling out an earbud. His eyes were dark and deep, questioning and cautious. There was something guarded there, a hint of walls built carefully over time.
“Hi,” Jun said, his voice gentler than usual, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment. God, he’s even more beautiful up close. How is that possible?
Minghao blinked, his gaze shifting from Jun’s face to the ground and back, searching for a reason behind the interruption. “Hi... Do I know you?” The words were quiet, almost hesitant, as though expecting this to be a mistake.
Jun’s smile broadened, soft at the edges. “No, not yet, anyway,” he replied, glancing down at the half-finished painting. The colors were vivid, but there was an emotional undertone in every brushstroke. It wasn’t just a painting—it was a confession of sorts. He doesn’t realize how talented he is, Jun mused, a small pang of frustration twisting in his chest at the thought.
“This is incredible,” Jun said, leaning closer. He noticed how Minghao’s fingers twitched slightly, a subtle tell of his nerves. He’s not used to this—being seen, being noticed. Why? The thought stirred something protective in Jun, making him want to shatter whatever belief made Minghao shrink away.
Minghao’s eyes darted back to the canvas, embarrassment coloring his features. “It’s not... it’s just a hobby. Nothing worth looking at,” he mumbled, the insecurities tightening around him like a shroud. Why does he care? People don’t care.
Jun’s smile softened, something warm and teasing sparking in his eyes. “Well, you’re wrong about that.” He leaned in, enough to make Minghao look up sharply, their faces mere inches apart. “And while we’re at it, you’re not exactly easy to look away from either,” Jun added, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down Minghao’s spine.
What is he saying? Minghao’s mind spun. Compliments weren’t unfamiliar, but this felt different—deeper, real. He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know anything.
Jun straightened, sensing the storm brewing in Minghao’s eyes. He reached into his pocket and fished out a small piece of paper, scribbling his number with an easy confidence. “In case you ever want to talk about art, life, or anything in between,” he said, holding it out. Please take it. Let this be a start, he thought, willing the moment to not slip through his fingers.
Minghao stared at the paper, the weight of uncertainty crushing him. What does he want from me? This can’t be real. He’ll forget about me the moment he leaves. But despite himself, he reached out, fingertips brushing Jun’s as he accepted the slip. A spark jolted through him, leaving his pulse thrumming.
“Take care, darling,” Jun said, a playful glint in his eyes as he stepped back, his smile searing into Minghao’s memory. He really means that, Minghao realized with a start. The word wrapped around his heart, unfamiliar and frightening.
---
Hours later, Minghao sat in his small apartment, the hum of the city outside barely registering. The piece of paper felt heavier than it should, a reminder of Jun’s warm smile and kind eyes. Why did he notice me? The question gnawed at him, tangled with years of doubts and half-healed wounds.
He stood, pacing the length of his room, thoughts swirling like a storm. The encounter replayed in his mind—the way Jun’s gaze had softened when he looked at him, the effortless way he said, “darling.” It made Minghao’s heart thud painfully. You’re not special. Don’t let yourself believe that.
But then there was Jun’s voice, earnest and teasing, cutting through the cacophony of doubt. He hesitated, phone in hand. The urge to reach out warred with fear, a fear that the moment would shatter under the weight of expectation.
Maybe... maybe he really meant it, a small, hopeful part of him whispered. And before the fear could win, he typed: Hey, it’s the guy from the park. Thank you... for what you said today.
The second after he hit send stretched endlessly, silence wrapping around him as he lay back, eyes on the ceiling. Jun’s laughter, the brightness in his voice, played on a loop in his mind. Minghao’s lips quirked up in a tiny, tentative smile, as if daring himself to believe.
Maybe, just maybe, someone finally saw him.
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A/N: Junhao time!! Also everyone thank you for 100 reads💗 💕💞 Don't forget to vote and comment💕
