In a world where dreams and fame collide, Naeun is a hardworking freelance model trying to balance her studies while secretly in love with Taemin, the rising star of SHINee. Their romance began when he was just a trainee and grew stronger as he prep...
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☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ:✧⋆.:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾
Taemin's POV,
Navigating the crowded streets of Seoul, Taemin felt the weight of the day pressing heavily against his chest. As he pulled up in front of Naeun's place, she quietly unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, her movements slow, almost reluctant. Her figure lingered by the sidewalk for a moment, soft and tired in the fading light. She turned to him, offering a small wave and a faint smile—one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Goodbye," she said, her voice low, worn thin by everything left unsaid.
He watched her retreat into the building, the sight leaving a sharp ache in his chest. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words never made it past his lips. Guilt gnawed at him as he drove off, her weary expression etched into his thoughts.
The city blurred outside the windows as his mind spiraled. Naeun's exhaustion. The careful concern in Joonwoon's voice. The way the members kept throwing him glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Everything was catching up to him—faster than he could process. He had known rumors might surface, but facing the full scope of them now felt heavier than he was prepared for.
No matter how many times he told Naeun things would be okay, deep down, he wasn't sure. The fear wouldn't leave him—it sat at the base of his throat, tightening with every beat of silence.
When he finally parked outside the entertainment building, the weight of everything settled deeper. He stepped inside and headed straight for the practice room, the familiar echo of dance beats muffled behind the door. It was the one place where he usually found focus—but today, even that felt out of reach.
A firm tap on his shoulder jolted him slightly. He turned to find Minho, eyes filled with quiet concern.
"Hey," Minho greeted, voice low.
Taemin nodded, managing a weak smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his own eyes either. He pulled off his hoodie and began warming up, stretching his arms, rolling his neck—trying to shake off the lingering fog.
Minho sat beside him, speaking just above a whisper. "We overheard some staff talking earlier. The rumors came up again."
Taemin's jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly. "Great," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair, the strands already damp from the stress.
Onew joined them with a frown. "I think I heard something about Dispatch. And... pictures." He hesitated before continuing. "Could be nothing, but you know how they work."
The rest of the members filed in, their presence grounding Taemin slightly. For a fleeting moment, the familiarity of the group eased the noise in his head.
Minho glanced over. "The higher-ups asked if we knew anything. We told them you've been with us. Practicing. Every night."
Onew chimed in as he pulled on his sweatshirt. "We said maybe you just grabbed coffee with someone. That if there are photos, it's probably just misleading. A weird angle. A stretch."
