Leal [Minwon]

Chapter 2- When Time Stands Still

Content Warning: This chapter contains mentions of sensitive topics, including eating disorders, sexual harassment/abuse, and underage sexual content. If you find any of these themes distressing, please proceed with caution or feel free to skip this chapter.

Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

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Wonwoo sat in the back of the Uber, fingers wrapped loosely around his Starbucks tea lemonade, the icy condensation dampening his skin. His sunglasses—oversized, dark enough to obscure most of his face—felt like a shield, a flimsy one at that. Fall was sinking into New York City, the breeze carrying a slight chill, yet Wonwoo clung to the anonymity the shades offered. Despite the cooler air, his hoodie felt too warm, but removing it wasn't an option. The protection it offered, like his sunglasses, was more psychological than physical.

The deal with Saint Laurent had propelled him into a new stratosphere of visibility, something he hadn't anticipated. The spike in followers, the constant stream of comments—adoration for his face, his body, his entire being—was overwhelming. They all seemed infatuated with him, painting him as an icon, a masterpiece. But Wonwoo couldn't see it. He couldn't understand what they found so extraordinary about him when he felt like nothing more than a collection of insecurities wrapped in designer fabric.

Jihoon sat beside him, fingers gliding across his iPad with the kind of speed and precision that spoke to his diligence. The faint sound of his humming filled the quiet space of the car, an undercurrent of calm that contrasted with the storm brewing inside Wonwoo. Jihoon was always working, always moving, his focus sharp and unwavering. Wonwoo was grateful for that—grateful that Soonyoung had insisted he take on Jihoon as his manager. "One of the best," Soonyoung had said, and so far, Wonwoo couldn't disagree. Jihoon had helped him navigate this new world with a steady hand, steering him away from the pitfalls that had once eroded his confidence.

His former agents... he still remembered the way they had torn him down, piece by piece, their criticism slicing through him with surgical precision. They'd made him feel small, inadequate, unworthy of anyone's time unless he fit into the impossibly narrow confines of their ideals. It had taken him years to start rebuilding the confidence they had shattered, and yet, sitting here, the weight of those memories pressed down on him like a familiar burden.

He tapped Jihoon's forearm gently, pulling him from his work. Jihoon removed one earbud, turning to him with a calm, expectant look.

"Is Mingyu going to be the photographer for today's shoot, as well?" Wonwoo's voice was quieter than he'd intended, almost like he didn't want to hear the answer.

Jihoon's expression softened as if he already knew the turmoil the question carried. He nodded, his sympathy barely masked. "Yeah, Wonwoo-ya. I'm sorry."

The bitterness was immediate, creeping into Wonwoo's smile, twisting it into something that barely resembled joy. His chest tightened as he fought to keep his expression neutral, to keep the rising tide of emotions at bay. Of course, Mingyu would be there. It had been inevitable, hadn't it? Mingyu was one of the most sought-after photographers at Saint Laurent. His talent was undeniable, his influence irrefutable. Saint Laurent adored him—and they weren't wrong to. Mingyu's work had that kind of power, the ability to transform anyone in front of his lens into something unforgettable.