ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʟᴇʟ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ | 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚊

The One with The Reflection 💕

Bold - English
Normal - Korean
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The clock on the studio wall had crept past an hour since they’d finished eating, but no one had noticed—except Nara.

She glanced down at her phone, the screen lighting up with a gentle buzz. A reminder to rest. A text from her new manager.

With a quiet exhale, she tugged her hoodie over her head, smoothing her hair beneath the hood. The studio was still alive with quiet laughter and the hum of lo-fi beats Nathan had looped as background noise. Kihyun was half-asleep on the beanbag, and Minhyuk was dramatically reenacting a scene with Jooheon, who was doing everything in his power not to break into laughter.

Nara stood, slipping her mask back over her face as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

“I should be heading home now,” she said, softly enough that it didn’t disturb the peace, yet clearly enough for everyone to hear.

A few of them looked up. “You’re leaving already?” Minhyuk pouted.

“I’ve been here longer than expected,” she replied with an apologetic shrug. “But thank you for letting me hang around. And for letting me feed you.”

“You’re welcome any time,” Shownu said with a faint smile, the leader always gracious even through drowsy eyes.

Nathan gave a half-hearted salute from his chair. “Text me when you get back.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Bye, guys. Don’t work too hard. Don't end up sleeping in the studio, Nathan.”

A chorus of casual farewells followed her to the door. And just like that, she was gone—hood up, mask on, disappearing into the hallway.

But she wasn’t alone for long.

The soft ding of the elevator arriving echoed down the corridor, followed by the light scuff of sneakers. Just as she stepped inside, she heard someone call out—barely above a whisper.

“Wait.”

The doors were about to close when a hand caught them.

Nara blinked in surprise as Changkyun stepped into the elevator with her, the doors sliding shut behind him with a quiet chime. He stood beside her, not too close, his hoodie slightly rumpled, eyes uncertain but warm.

“I didn’t mean to ambush you,” he said quickly, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I just… didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.”

She tilted her head, amused. “You already did, though. Indirectly.”

He chuckled softly, looking at the elevator buttons as though they held more answers than his own thoughts. The silence stretched for a second—comfortable, not awkward. Then he spoke again.

“Do you… think I could have your number?”

Nara turned her head toward him, caught off guard again—not by the question, but by how hesitant he sounded asking it. Changkyun, the quiet observer, now standing here as if unsure whether he had overstepped.

“You want my number?” she repeated, just to make sure she’d heard him right.

He nodded once. “Yeah. I mean… I—” He hesitated, his voice dipping slightly. “You’re easy to talk to. That’s rare.”

There was a pause. Her eyes searched his, and what she found there was honest. Soft. And a little vulnerable.

So, without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. Unlocked. Open to a new contact page. She handed it to him, their fingers grazing again as they exchanged phones—warm and light.