ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʟᴇʟ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ | 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚊

The One with The Reflection 💕

Changkyun typed in his number carefully. Paused. Then typed his name:

Changkyun 🌙

He handed it back and cleared his throat softly. “The moon felt right.” Nara handed his back after saving her name to his contact:

Nara ⭐

Nara looked down at the screen, smiling beneath her mask. “The star felt right too.”

“It does,” he said, voice low. “Because you… make the quiet feel full. Not empty.”

That did something to her. A slight, barely-there ache at the center of her chest—not painful, just present. She pocketed her phone and leaned slightly against the back wall of the elevator.

“Well,” she murmured, eyes flicking to him. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

He smiled, shy but proud. “Good. Then I’m off to a decent start.”

The elevator slowed to a stop with a soft ding, the doors sliding open to the quiet of the Starship lobby.

She stepped out first but turned to face him. “Text me when you’re not being observed,” she teased lightly.

He looked at her with a soft glint in his eyes. “I’m always observing.”

She laughed. “Then surprise me.”

“I will,” he promised.

She gave a tiny wave and turned away, the sound of her steps echoing softly through the building.

Changkyun didn’t move until the doors began to close again. Only then did he lean back against the elevator wall, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Somewhere between tteok-bokki and tangled napkins, something had started.

And this—this quiet moment in an empty hallway—felt like the beginning of something neither of them quite had words for yet.

---

Back in the studio, the warmth from the meal had mellowed into a soft lull. Now most of the members were either sprawled across beanbags or scrolling quietly through their phones. Nathan was still at the console, his fingers lazily adjusting levels more out of habit than necessity, his eyes trained on the screen—though his focus was clearly elsewhere.

The elevator dinged faintly in the distance.

Seconds later, the studio door creaked open, and Changkyun stepped back in, quiet as ever. He shut the door behind him gently, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he reentered the softly lit room. No one paid him much mind. Except one person.

“You’re trying to court my sister?”

Nathan’s voice was calm, offhand even—but too pointed to be casual. His eyes hadn’t left the mixing console, his back still to Changkyun as he spoke.

Changkyun froze mid-step, caught like a deer in the headlights. “Wait… what?” he said quickly, voice rising slightly.

Only then did Nathan slowly spin in his swivel chair, turning to face him. His expression wasn’t angry—just curious, unreadable. The faint glow from the monitor behind him cast an eerie halo around his head, like some kind of judging deity. One corner of his mouth lifted in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“I said,” Nathan repeated, arching a brow, “are you trying to court my sister?”

Changkyun shifted awkwardly in place, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had gotten. Even Minhyuk had paused mid-scroll, subtly listening without looking up. Jooheon’s phone lay abandoned in his lap. Everyone had gone very, very still.