Ji-hoon felt the weight of a thousand eyes before anyone even screamed "Headliner!" A cold fire of anxiety swept through his chest: what if his voice cracked again, precisely when it mattered most? Headlining the Seoul Pride Festival. The manager's announcement still echoed in the practice room, a thunderclap that had momentarily silenced the usual post-rehearsal chatter. It was an unprecedented opportunity, a massive stage, and a powerful statement.
A beat of stunned silence, then the room erupted. Min-jae let out a whoop, high-fiving Seung-hyun. Dae-on's elegant composure cracked into a wide grin. Yuna clapped her hands, her sweet voice bubbling with excitement. For CHROMATIC, a band built on a concept of "authenticity and self-expression," headlining a Pride event was a monumental step, a chance to truly embody their message.
Hyun-woo, however, felt a strange mix of exhilaration and a cold knot of apprehension. His public persona, the flamboyant, arrogant leader, was thrilled. This was the ultimate stage, the ultimate spotlight. But the private Hyun-woo, the one who had just felt the electric jolt of Ji-hoon's touch, felt the weight of a different kind of spotlight. A spotlight that would expose every hidden corner, every unspoken truth. He glanced at Ji-hoon, who had retreated further into his corner, his face pale, his large eyes wide with a familiar anxiety. The festival meant more eyes, more scrutiny, more pressure. And now, the added burden of a secret that had just sparked into existence.
Later that evening, the dorm was unusually quiet. The other members were either asleep, or lost in their phones, unwinding from the day. Ji-hoon sat by the window, gazing out at the distant city lights, a silent symphony of anxieties playing in his mind. The tremor in his voice during rehearsal had been a stark reminder of his stage fright, his fear of imperfection. Now, the Pride Festival loomed, a colossal stage demanding not just perfection, but a genuine, unscripted connection. And the unspoken connection with Hyun-woo… it felt both exhilarating and terrifying.
A soft knock on his door. Ji-hoon startled, pulling his gaze from the window. Hyun-woo stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his neon green hair a vibrant splash against the dim hallway light. He was no longer in his flamboyant practice clothes, but in a simple, oversized hoodie, yet he still radiated an undeniable presence. The streetlights outside filtered through the window, painting faint stripes of shadow and light across Ji-hoon's face, making his usually reserved features seem even more vulnerable.
"Can't sleep?" Hyun-woo's voice was low, softer than his stage voice, a tone Ji-hoon was beginning to associate with their private moments.
Ji-hoon shook his head. "Too much… noise." He wasn't talking about the city.
Hyun-woo nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click that sealed them in. He moved to the small, worn sofa, sitting just a hand's breadth from Ji-hoon. The scent of Hyun-woo's lingering stage makeup – a mix of glitter and something uniquely bold – filled the small space, oddly comforting. "The festival. It's big. Even for us." He paused, his gaze fixed on Ji-hoon's face. "You look… overwhelmed."
Ji-hoon swallowed. "It's a lot of pressure. And… the message. It's important. I don't want to… mess it up." He admired the courage of those who lived openly, remembering a fleeting glimpse of his first Pride parade, a sea of vibrant colors and joyous faces, a feeling of belonging he'd only ever dreamed of. But his own nature recoiled from such exposure.
Hyun-woo leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his voice a low, resonant murmur. "Don't apologize, Ji-hoon. Imperfection is what makes art… and us… unforgettable." He reached out, his fingers gently brushing the back of Ji-hoon's hand, a fleeting, electric current. "Your voice is a gift, Ji-hoon. A living thing. Sometimes it trembles. That doesn't make it less perfect. It makes it real." He paused, his thumb gently stroking Ji-hoon's jawline, tilting his head up slightly. "But you hide it. You hide yourself."
Ji-hoon flinched, his breath catching. Hyun-woo saw too much. "It's… safer."
"Safer?" Hyun-woo scoffed softly, a hint of his usual arrogance returning, but softened by an undeniable warmth. "Shadows protect you, yes, but I prefer to see you shine, even if it means getting burned in the process." He paused, his eyes searching Ji-hoon's. "Life is meant to be lived in full spectrum, Ji-hoon. Every color, every shade. Even the ones others don't understand. Especially those."
The air in the small room thickened with unspoken meaning. Hyun-woo wasn't just talking about stage presence anymore. He was talking about something deeper, something personal. Ji-hoon felt a tremor go through him, a mix of fear and a strange, exhilarating hope. Hyun-woo, the flamboyant, extroverted leader, was seeing past his carefully constructed walls.
"The agency," Ji-hoon murmured, changing the subject, his voice barely a whisper. "They'll be watching us even closer now. Especially with this festival. They want everything perfect. No… distractions."
Hyun-woo's confident smirk returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "StellarRise wants perfection? StellarRise will get perfection. But perfection, Ji-hoon, is a matter of perspective. And mine… mine is far more interesting than theirs." He stood up, walking towards the door. "Just remember what I said. Don't hide your colors. Not from me. Not from the world."
He opened the door, then paused, looking back at Ji-hoon. "And get some sleep. We have a lot of work to do. We're going to make this festival unforgettable." He winked, then slipped out, leaving Ji-hoon alone in the quiet room.
Ji-hoon stared at the closed door, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Hyun-woo's words, his touch, his intense gaze… they resonated deep within him, stirring emotions he had long suppressed. The idea of "not hiding his colors" felt both liberating and terrifying. StellarRise's strict rules about dating, especially within the group, loomed like a dark cloud. He knew the risks. A scandal could destroy CHROMATIC, destroy Hyun-woo's career, and send Ji-hoon back into the shadows he so desperately feared.
He needed to decide: keep hiding… or risk everything for a glimpse of light.