Inspired by Songs.......Gongfourz Oneshots (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Can I be him? -Part 1: The Inspiration

When the lights come on and I'm on my own
Will you be there to sing it again?
Could I be the one you talk about in all your stories?Can I be the one

Leehan had always been a writer who found solace in his solitude. His life revolved around the written word—an escape, a safe haven where he could control the chaos around him. He never thought he'd become famous or a household name; he was just a man who wanted to put words on paper and let them speak for themselves. But Eternal Notes was different. It was personal. It was raw, a story that had come to him when he least expected it.

Leehan was at a fan event promoting his most recent book when he first met Taesan. The fans filled the bookstore, excited to meet the author who had captivated their imaginations with his beautiful, introspective novels. Leehan was no stranger to these events, but today felt different. There was an energy in the air, a palpable excitement that was hard to ignore.

As he sat at the signing table, signing books and smiling at fans, his eyes caught sight of a figure standing near the back. He looked out of place amidst the sea of eager fans—a tall, slightly aloof man who seemed to be scanning the room, his eyes settling on Leehan with a strange intensity.

It didn't take long for Leehan to realize that the man was someone he recognized. Taesan. He had seen him perform at a local bar just a few weeks ago. The memory of his voice still lingered in Leehan's mind—the way Taesan's singing had stopped him in his tracks, every note filled with a melancholy that resonated deep within. His voice was unlike anything Leehan had ever heard before, and there was something hauntingly beautiful about the way he sang.

At the time, Leehan had jotted down a few lines in his notebook after hearing Taesan's performance, as if something in his music had triggered an idea for a story. He had no intention of writing about him—no, that wasn't it. But the feeling lingered, as it always did when something made an impact.

And now, here he was, standing in front of him.

Leehan cleared his throat, trying to stay focused as Taesan approached the table. There was a knowing look in Taesan's eyes, a quiet confidence that felt both familiar and intriguing.

"Hi," Taesan said, his voice smooth and casual. "I'm a huge fan of your work. Actually, I have a small request."

Leehan looked up from signing his book, meeting Taesan's gaze. He smiled politely, thinking it was just another fan who wanted to gush about the novels he'd written. But Taesan's eyes weren't filled with the usual admiration. There was something else, something playful and mischievous.

"I've read all your books," Taesan continued, "but for your next one, I think you should write about me."

Leehan blinked, a bit surprised. "Oh?" he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "And what would you want me to write about you?"

Taesan leaned closer, the playful grin never leaving his face. "I think I'd make a great character—someone who's always in the background, never the center of attention. But then, when the time comes, he steps forward, and everything changes. He's not what everyone expects him to be, but somehow, he's exactly what they need."

Leehan raised an eyebrow. This was getting interesting. "Sounds like a pretty mysterious guy," he said, his curiosity piqued. "What else? What makes him different?"

"Everything," Taesan replied, his gaze unwavering. "He's complex, unpredictable. He doesn't give himself away easily, but when he does, he's got a heart that makes people realize they never saw him coming. He's kind of the guy who's always been there, but when he shows who he really is, it's like the world changes."

Leehan found himself intrigued by the depth in Taesan's words. Most fans would just ask for a signed book or a selfie, but Taesan was speaking as if he understood something about Leehan's writing that most didn't. The idea of writing about someone who wasn't what he appeared to be—a character who gradually revealed his complexity—was exactly the kind of protagonist Leehan loved to write.

"So, you think you'd be a good character for that?" Leehan asked with a smile.

Taesan's grin widened. "I know I would," he said with playful confidence. "I could be exactly what you're looking for."

The conversation shifted back to casual small talk as Leehan signed Taesan's book, but the playful energy between them lingered. As Taesan moved on, Leehan watched him go, his mind racing with a strange feeling he couldn't quite explain.

Later that night, back at his apartment, Leehan found himself sitting at his desk, staring at a blank page. He hadn't expected the conversation to stick with him the way it did, but as the hours passed, his thoughts kept drifting back to Taesan—his words, the way he described himself, the way he made it sound like he was meant to be more than just a background character in life.

And as Leehan sat there, a spark of inspiration ignited in his mind.

He reached for his pen, his hand moving instinctively across the page as if his thoughts were finally finding their place. The character he had been struggling to flesh out for weeks suddenly came to life. He was everything Taesan had described—a figure in the background, someone people overlooked, but whose presence could change everything once revealed.

The character felt real to Leehan—too real, in fact. He could hear Taesan's voice in the back of his mind, the way he'd spoken with such quiet intensity. For some reason, Leehan couldn't shake the feeling that Taesan had unknowingly become the foundation of the story he was trying to tell.

It wasn't intentional. Leehan hadn't set out to write about him. But the more he wrote, the clearer it became. The character's actions, his subtle charm, the way he affected the people around him—it was Taesan, no question about it. Leehan smiled to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

As the days passed, the character evolved on the page, and Taesan's influence over the story grew stronger. His quiet, effortless charisma seeped into every sentence, every dialogue. Taesan's essence had become the heart of the novel, and Leehan couldn't ignore it anymore.

By the time he finished the manuscript for Eternal Notes, Leehan had fully realized what had happened. Without even meaning to, he had written Taesan into the heart of the story. The character was a reflection of him—of the charm, the complexity, the quiet strength that Leehan had unknowingly observed in him that night.

Leehan sat back in his chair, staring at the pages before him, a mixture of admiration and realization sweeping over him. He had written a book about a person who had unknowingly inspired him.

And now, the real question remained: What would Taesan think when he found out?