A Backstage Love I Han Jisung x Reader

A Sudden Approach

I looked up, startled. He was leaning against the doorframe, his usual smile in place, but there was something different in his eyes-something that made my heart beat a little faster.

"Hi," I replied cautiously, straightening up and trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at his presence.

"You're always the last one here," he remarked, stepping into the room. "I've noticed."

I shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Just trying to stay sharp. I can't afford to fall behind."

He nodded, but his gaze was still on me, as if he was trying to figure something out. "You're really dedicated," he said, and there was a note of admiration in his voice that made my stomach twist. "It's impressive."

"Thanks," I mumbled, turning away to gather my things. I didn't want to have this conversation, didn't want to open up to him. It was safer to keep my distance, to stay focused on what mattered.

But Jisung wasn't done. He moved closer, stopping just a few feet away from me. "You know, it's okay to take a break sometimes," he said, his tone light, almost teasing. "You don't have to push yourself so hard."

I paused, my hands gripping the strap of my bag. "I don't really have a choice," I replied quietly. "This is everything to me."

There was a brief silence, and when I finally looked up, I saw something shift in his expression. It was subtle, but it was there-a flicker of understanding, of empathy. "I get it," he said softly. "I really do."

His words caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say. He was being sincere, and that sincerity was more disarming than anything else. It would have been easier if he was just another flirt, someone I could brush off without a second thought. But he wasn't. He was Han Jisung-genuine, kind, and utterly impossible to ignore.

After that night, the tension between us grew. We didn't interact often, but when we did, it was always charged with an undercurrent of something more. I could feel it every time he looked at me, every time our eyes met across the room. It was like an electric current running beneath the surface, dangerous and exhilarating.

I tried to keep my distance, but it was getting harder and harder. Jisung was persistent, not in an overt way, but in the way he seemed to be everywhere. He'd find excuses to talk to me, to ask about my day, or to compliment my work. He was always respectful, always careful not to cross any lines, but his interest was clear.

And it wasn't just him. The other members had started noticing us, too. They didn't say anything outright, but I could tell from the way they looked at us, the way they teased Jisung when they thought I wasn't paying attention. It was like they were waiting for something to happen, for one of us to make a move.

But I couldn't. I wouldn't. I'd worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to let this derail me now. So I kept my head down, focused on my work, and did my best to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat every time I saw him.

It all came to a head one night during a late practice. I was alone again, pushing myself to the limit, when I heard the door open. I didn't need to look to know who it was. Jisung had a way of making his presence known, even without saying a word.

"Still here?" he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Just finishing up," I replied, not looking at him.

He didn't leave, and I could feel his eyes on me as I continued to move through the routine. The tension in the room was palpable, and I knew that something had to give.

Finally, I stopped, turning to face him. "Why are you here, Jisung?" I asked, my voice more tired than I intended.

He hesitated for a moment, as if he was weighing his words. "I guess I just wanted to see how you're doing," he said quietly. "You've been pushing yourself really hard lately."

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" he pressed, his gaze searching mine. "You don't have to do this alone, you know."

His words hit me harder than they should have, and for a moment, I couldn't respond. He was offering something-support, understanding, maybe even something more-but I couldn't take it. I couldn't let myself fall into that trap.

"I don't need your help," I said finally, my voice colder than I intended. "I'm not here to make friends."