ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʟᴇʟ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ | 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙽𝚊𝚛𝚊

The One with The Reflection 💕

“No,” Changkyun said quickly, too quickly. “I’m just— I mean, I’m just trying to be friends with her. That’s all.”

Nathan hummed, tapping a few keys without looking at the screen. Then he leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head, and eyed Changkyun with a slow, knowing look. “Right… friends.”

“I’m serious,” Changkyun added, suddenly wishing his voice didn’t betray that tiny shake. “I didn’t— I wouldn’t… cross that line without respecting her or— or you.”

Nathan stared at him for another beat, his gaze weighing something. Then he tilted his head, tone lighter but still laced with something older, something brotherly.

“She’s not just my sister, you know,” he said evenly. “She’s worked her ass off for months. She hides it well, but the pressure’s different for her. Every step she takes is being watched now. Judged. Compared.”

“I know,” Changkyun said softly. “She told me.”

Nathan’s brow lifted slightly at that. “She did, huh?”

There was a moment of silence.

“She doesn’t open up to people that easily,” he said finally. “But she did with you. That says something.”

Changkyun stayed quiet, unsure whether he was being warned, tested—or trusted.

Nathan let out a slow breath and spun back toward the console, the moment breaking like a gentle wave against the shore.

“Just don’t be careless with her,” he said, tone casual but clear. “Because if you are, I’ll write a diss track with your name in the title and leak it during comeback week.”

From across the room, Jooheon choked on his water.

Changkyun blinked. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“I’m a producer,” Nathan said smoothly. “Being specific is my job.”

A pause.

Then, at last, Nathan glanced over his shoulder with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Relax, maknae. I’m not coming for your throat—yet. Just… don’t waste her time. She doesn’t have much of it to begin with.”

Changkyun nodded, his voice low but sure. “I won’t.”

The energy in the room loosened again, tension slipping back into comfort. Nathan turned up the beat ever so slightly, letting it hum beneath the moment. Conversations started to pick up in scattered murmurs again.

But as Changkyun settled into the couch beside Jooheon, he felt something shift beneath his skin.

He hadn’t lied.

He hadn’t meant to fall into anything.

But now that he had—accidentally, quietly—he realized something else:

He didn’t want to walk back out of it either.

---

The city blurred past the taxi window in a quiet smear of neon and rain-kissed pavement, Seoul’s nightlife settling into its familiar rhythm of flickering signs and muted horns. Nara leaned her head against the cool glass, the soft vibration of the engine humming beneath her as the driver took a right at the next intersection.

She hadn’t spoken since getting in—just gave the address, then settled into the silence.

Her legs ached. Her shoulders throbbed dully, remnants of the five-hour dance practice she’d pushed herself through earlier. And her throat still felt tight from the vocal warm-ups that followed, though the smooth tteok-bokki and ice-cold smoothie had helped.