BA

She’s barely a year into her idol career when she meets Min Yoongi—quiet, brilliant, impossible to read. He doesn’t flirt, doesn’t linger, doesn’t give her anything she can hold onto. But he does guide her through writing her first real song, stays late to fix her demo, warns her about the parts of the industry that chew people up. Small things. Careful things. Things he doesn’t do for anyone unless they matter. And she falls for him fast. Hard. Stupidly. But Yoongi’s heart is a locked room. Every time he lets her in—one soft look, one vulnerable slip, one moment where he almost says what he feels—he shuts down again. Walls up. Distance back. Like he’s terrified of wanting her, terrified of being wanted, terrified of repeating whatever broke him before. The whiplash wrecks her. She can’t tell if he’s protecting her or pushing her away. She can’t tell if she’s imagining everything or if he’s just too scared to admit it. And the closer she gets, the worse the anxiety hits—because loving someone who won’t let himself love you back feels like drowning in slow motion.