**Sunshine's POV**
Seven days until the Seoul Music Awards.
KDX Entertainment had transformed into something between a military operation and organized madness. Every corridor hummed with energy. Every room pulsed with purpose. Every person moved with intent.
Mine was to make sure Kael Devereaux survived the week—and to survive being near him without combusting.
"Schedule for today," I said, clipboard clutched like a shield as we walked toward the practice room at 6:50 AM. My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Six fifty rehearsal warm-up, seven AM full run-through, nine thirty costume consultation—"
"Sunshine."
Just my name. Low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet.
My stomach dropped. "—eleven AM interview with Style Korea, one PM lunch, which you will actually eat this time—"
"I ate yesterday."
"Half a protein bar doesn't count."
"It counts." I could hear the smile in his voice without looking at him.
"Kael."
He stopped walking. I stopped too—too suddenly—and stumbled forward.
His hands shot out, catching my waist, steadying me. Warm. Firm. The heat of his palms burning through my blouse.
"Careful," he murmured, voice low and amused.
My heart slammed against my ribs. "I-I'm fine. Sorry. I—"
"You okay?" He hadn't let go yet. His thumbs pressed gently against my sides.
I nodded too quickly, stepping back, face burning. "Y-yes. Fine. Totally fine."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "Eat your lunch, Kael," he mimicked gently.
"I'm serious!"
"Yes, ma'am." His eyes dropped to my clipboard. "You wrote 'make sure he eats' in red pen. And underlined it twice."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "It's important!"
"In your own handwriting."
"Kael Devereaux—"
He laughed. That full, rich sound that made my stomach flip. Then he walked into the practice room, shoulders still shaking with amusement.
I stood frozen in the doorway, heart hammering, pressing my hand to my chest where I could feel my pulse thrashing wildly.
Stop smiling, I commanded myself.
My lips curved wider.
**Kael's POV**
Day three of rehearsals, and I had never enjoyed award prep more in my life.
Previously, this week always felt like walking toward execution. The pressure. The perfectionism. The suffocating isolation.
Now? Now it felt like a game I was winning. And the prize was watching Sunshine try not to stare at me.
During the water break, I caught her in the corner, bent over her clipboard, teeth worrying her bottom lip. I'd been noticing that tell for days—the way she bit down when she was trying to concentrate. Or trying not to look at me.
Usually both.
I crossed the room toward her, my skin still damp from dancing, and watched her shoulders tense as I approached. She could feel me coming. I liked that.
"You've been biting your lip for twenty minutes," I murmured, close enough that she'd feel my breath on her temple.
She startled, pen jerking across the page. "I'm concentrating."
"You do it when you're trying not to look at me."
"I'm not—" Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and caught. Color flooded her cheeks. "Go back to rehearsal."
"In a minute." I leaned against the wall beside her, close enough that if she shifted an inch we'd touch. The air between us felt charged.
"What are you writing?"
"Your schedule." Her voice had gone breathless. I watched her pulse flutter at the base of her throat.
"You've written my schedule every day this week."
"It keeps changing."
"Mmm." I glanced down at the clipboard in her hands. "You've drawn a small star next to 'lunch break.'"
Her fingers tightened on the pen. "It's a reminder symbol."
I let my lips curve. "Sure it is."
"Kael Devereaux," she said, trying for stern and landing somewhere around flustered. "If you don't go back to that rehearsal—"
"You'll what?"
Her mouth opened. Closed. She pointed at the dance floor with her pen, and I could see the pulse hammering in her wrist.
I pushed off the wall, letting my shoulder brush hers as I passed. Just a whisper of contact. Just enough to feel her breath catch.
I went back to the floor grinning like an idiot.
Min-ah appeared at Sunshine's side immediately. "Did he just flirt with you in front of twelve backup dancers and a choreographer?"
"He was just talking."
"He was talking with his entire chest pressed against your personal space and you know it." Min-ah fanned herself dramatically. "I need to sit down. That was obscene."
**Sunshine's POV**
After the afternoon session, Director Han pulled me aside.
"Walk with me."
My stomach tightened. "Is something wrong?"
Nothing is wrong." she turned to face me. "Are you and Kael—is there something between you?"
I paused and she stared at me as if she could read through me.
"We're professional. I would never let anything affect my work or his—"
"Sunshine." She smiled gently. "I'm not asking as his director. I'm asking as someone who's watched him struggle for three years. He's different this week. Happier. Because of you."
My eyes stung. "I... I care about him."
"I know. And he needs that." She squeezed my shoulder. "Whatever you're doing, don't stop. Just be discreet."
I thanked her and left.
---
That night, the whole team worked late.
By ten PM, the practice room had thinned to just a few stragglers. I sat curled on the leather couch, tablet balanced on my knees, updating the master schedule and trying not to watch Kael through my peripheral vision.
He moved across the room like water—fluid, effortless, devastating. His black t-shirt clung to his shoulders, damp with sweat. His hair fell across his forehead. Every line of him was perfection and control and barely restrained power.
I was so focused on pretending not to stare that I didn't notice him approach until the couch dipped beside me.
My breath stuttered.
"Take five minutes," he said, voice low and rough from exertion. He lifted the tablet from my hands, setting it aside.
"Kael—"
"Five minutes, Sunshine."
The way he said my name—like a caress, like a prayer—made heat pool low in my stomach.
I leaned back against the couch. He did the same. And suddenly we were shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, the length of him pressed against the length of me and setting every nerve ending ablaze.
The room had gone quiet. Just the hum of overhead lights. The distant sound of traffic through the windows. The thundering of my pulse in my ears.
His arm rested along the back of the couch behind me. Not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Close enough that if I shifted—just an inch—I'd be tucked against him.
"Director Han talked to me today," I said, desperate for anything to fill the charged silence.
"About?"
"Us."
His body went still beside me. Tension coiled through his shoulders. "What did she say?"
"She's happy." I turned my head to look at him and immediately regretted it. He was so close. Close enough to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes. Close enough to count his eyelashes. "She said you're different this week."
Something shifted in his expression—soft and raw and almost painful.
"Kael," I whispered. "The people who care about you want you to be happy."
His gaze dropped to where my hand rested on my thigh. Then, slowly—so slowly I could have stopped him if I wanted to—he reached over and covered it with his own.
The contact sent electricity racing up my arm.
His hand was warm. Strong. His fingers longer than mine, roughened from guitar strings, and the weight of them against my skin made my breath catch.
He turned my hand over. Palm up. Vulnerable.
Then his thumb traced a path across my knuckles. Slow. Deliberate. Each stroke igniting sparks beneath my skin, sending heat spiraling through my body and pooling between my thighs.
"I want to tell you something," he said, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb continued its torturous path—back and forth, back and forth. "About my past. Something I've never told you."
My heart began to pound. "Okay."
"Something I should probably tell you before—"
His phone rang.
The spell shattered.
He glanced at the screen, and frustration
flickered across his face. The award show producer—a call he'd been waiting for all day.
"I have to take this."
"Go ahead."
"We'll talk after." His fingers squeezed mine once—firm, promising before he stood and moved away, already answering.
I sat there, hand still tingling from his touch, heart still racing but it was a long day and I was honestly tired.
Just for a minute, I told myself.
I closed my eyes.
**Kael's POV**
The call dragged on for forty minutes. Logistics. Timing. Cues I already knew.
When I finally hung up and turned around, the practice room was empty except for Sunshine.
She was asleep on the couch.
I walked over slowly, quietly, and just... looked at her.
Her head was tilted to the side, one hand tucked under her cheek. Her hair had fallen across her face. Her lips were slightly parted, breathing soft and even.
She looked exhausted. Of course she was exhausted—she'd been running herself ragged taking care of everyone. Taking care of me.
I crouched down beside the couch, careful not to wake her.
In sleep, her face was peaceful. Unguarded. Beautiful.
I wanted to brush the hair from her face. Wanted to trace the curve of her cheek. Wanted to memorize this moment before everything got complicated.
Before I told her the truth and watched everything change.
Would she still look at me like this when she knew? Would she still—
Her eyes opened.
We both froze.
For one breathless second, we just stared at each other—her confused and sleep-soft, me caught hovering over her like some kind of creep.
"I—" we both said at the same time.
She jerked upright. I stumbled backward.
"Oh my God, I'm sorry!" she gasped, hands flying to her hair. "I-I fell asleep, I didn't mean to— We should go, I should—"
"No, it's fine, you were tired—"
"I'm so sorry, I—what time is it?"
"Almost eleven—"
"Eleven?!" She scrambled for her bag. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
"Sunshine, it's okay—"
"No, it's late, I should go, I need to—" She stood too fast and swayed.
I caught her arm. "Careful."
"I'm fine! I'm—" She looked at my hand on her arm. Her face went pink. "I'm fine."
"Let me drive you home."
"No! No, it's okay, I can take a cab...
you should rest too, She was backing toward the door, still talking too fast. "Thank you, I'll see you tomorrow, get some sleep, okay? Okay. Goodnight!"
She practically ran out.
I stood there in the empty practice room, hand still outstretched where I'd been holding her arm.
The door swung shut behind her.
And I was alone.
I sank down onto the couch—the same couch where she'd just been sleeping. It still held the warmth of her body. Still smelled faintly like her perfume.
I pressed my hands to my face.
Would she still smile at me like that when she knew the truth?
Would this whatever this fragile, beautiful thing was between us—survive my past?
Or would I lose her the moment the words left my mouth?
The award show was in three days.
Three more days of this happiness.
And then everything might change.
I just hoped we were strong enough to survive it.
---
**END OF CHAPTER 11**