My Idol

Chapter 10

Hyejin shook her head gently, offering a grateful but firm smile. “That’s so sweet of you to ask — truly. But I think I’ll head to my own place, if that’s okay? I… I don’t know anyone well enough yet for something like that. It feels like your private time together, and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

It was more than that, though — she’d never actually had a movie night with real people before. Never sat on a sofa laughing and sharing snacks, part of something easy and casual. The thought made her chest tight, warm but unfamiliar. Besides, her apartment still felt like a show home — clean, bright, perfectly arranged, but empty. No photos on the walls, no soft blankets draped over the back of the sofa, nothing that said Hyejin lives here. She hadn’t made it herself yet — and walking into theirs, full of warmth and history and belonging, would only make that gap wider.

Sun nodded understandingly. “We get it — no pressure at all. Another time, then?”

“Another time,” she agreed softly.

They stepped out together on the top floor — two doors between them. She waved them toward Ace’s, then let herself into her own quiet space.

Dinner was simple: two boiled eggs and a packet of instant noodles, eaten straight from the bowl perched on the kitchen island. She washed everything up immediately, drying and putting it away — old habit, keep things neat, keep things light.

Later, she changed into pyjamas — a plain cream tank top edged with delicate little lace around the neckline, matching soft shorts — and curled up on the sofa with a book. Only one lamp was lit beside her, casting a warm, soft glow, and the under‑cabinet lights in the kitchen glowed gently too — enough light to find her way, but not enough to break the quiet calm. The apartment felt peaceful, if still a little empty.

A soft knock came at the door.

She glanced at the time — just past eleven. Frowning a little, she set her book down and padded over, opening it without thinking too much.

Ace stood there.

His hair was loose and soft, he’d changed into a plain grey t‑shirt and dark sweatpants, and his eyes went gently over her — the messy bun, the lace at her neck, her bare arms and legs, the way she looked so different, so unguarded — before he cleared his throat and met her gaze again, a faint pink touching his ears.

“Sorry — I didn’t mean to disturb you this late,” he said, his voice quiet. “The boys told me they ran into you. Said you’d got a little lost, your phone died… and that they invited you over.”

Hyejin leaned against the doorframe, arms folding loosely across herself. “They were very kind. I just… didn’t think it was right to come. Not yet.”

Ace nodded, his expression soft and knowing. “I figured. That’s why I came over. I wanted to make sure you were okay — that they didn’t push too hard.”

“Not at all,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “They were lovely — truly. I’m just… not past the point of colleagues with anyone yet. It takes me a while.”

She realised then she’d been keeping him standing on the threshold, and stepped back, opening the door wider. “I’m so sorry — please, come in. Would you like something to drink? I’m afraid my supplies are still pretty basic — water, tea… instant coffee?”

Ace smiled, soft and relieved, and stepped gently across the threshold. “Water would be perfect, thank you. And you don’t need to apologise — I completely understand.”

He paused just inside, glancing around — the bright, uncluttered rooms, the plain walls, the sleek untouched surfaces — noticing exactly what she’d felt earlier: clean, neat, beautiful… but not yet lived in. Not quite hers.

“It’s still very new,” she said quietly, as if reading his thought, leading the way toward the kitchen. “I haven’t quite figured out how to make it feel like home yet.”

Ace leaned lightly against the kitchen island, his gaze gentle as he watched her reach for two glasses. “You will. It just takes time. And permission — to make a mess, to hang things up, to leave your mark.”

Hyejin handed him his water, her fingers brushing his for a fleeting moment. “That sounds easy when you say it.”

“Easier said than done,” he agreed, his voice low and warm. “I know. I’ve been here a year — there are still boxes in my closet I haven’t opened.”

She smiled then — a small, real one — and took a slow sip of her own drink. “Somehow… that makes me feel much better.”

They moved over to the sofa, sitting a comfortable, respectful distance apart — close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s company, far enough to breathe. The soft lamp light spilled gently between them, turning the edges of his hair pale gold.

Hyejin folded one leg beneath her, leaning back against the cushions. “You know… I realise I don’t actually know much about you at all. Beyond the files, I mean.” She smiled, a little sheepish. “Is it okay if I ask some things? Just… light stuff. Nothing too serious.”

Ace blinked, genuinely surprised. “You can ask me anything.”

“Okay — what’s your favourite colour?”

He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Navy blue.”

“And what’s your go‑to comfort food after a long day?”

“Kimchi jjigae,” he answered instantly, a faint smile touching his mouth. “Spicy, bubbling hot, with plenty of tofu. My mum’s recipe.”

“Who’s the person who taught you to sing first?”

This one made him pause longer, his gaze softening. “My grandmother. She sang to me every night until I was ten. Said my voice was a gift — even when it cracked and went wrong.”

He studied her then, something quiet and wondering in his eyes. “You know… people usually don’t ask these things. They already know. They’ve read every interview, every profile, every social media post. They come ready with facts like they know me.” He gave a small, gentle shrug. “But you… you’re asking me. Like I’m just… someone you’re meeting for the first time. Not the version everyone else sees.”

Hyejin met his gaze steadily. “But I am meeting you for the first time. Ace on stage is one thing — but Woo‑jin? I’d rather hear about him from you.”

Something shifted in his expression — softened, deepened, as if she’d handed him something rare. He leaned in a little, elbows resting on his knees, and for the first time all evening, he looked completely relaxed.

“Then ask whatever you want,” he said quietly. “I’ll tell you everything.”