Page 13 of K-Pop Double Life

She touched his cheek briefly, the same way she’d been doing since he was eighteen. Then she looked at me. “Take care of him, Sang-hoon-ah.”

“Always.”

She left, closing the door with a quiet click.

“She already knew, I think,” Jin said.

“What?”

“She’s known me since I was a trainee. She sees everything.” A small smile. “She’s probably been waiting for us to figure it out for years.”

I laughed, the sound breaking into something that might have been a sob. “This is insane.”

“I know.”

“We could both lose everything.”

“I know.” He kissed me again, slow and deep. “But I already almost lost you tonight. That’s worse.”

When we stopped, the smile on his face was real. “You see? She’s not angry.”

“Why would she be angry?”

He sat beside me again, close enough that our thighs pressed together. “Because this complicates everything. Because it puts us both at risk. Because⁠—”

“Because you deserve to be happy,” I said quietly. “And she knows that.”

He leaned his head on my shoulder, suddenly exhausted. “I’m so tired, Sang-hoon.”

“I know.” I put my arm around him, pulled him close. “Eat something, and then sleep. I’ll stay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

The food was simple: rice, soup, grilled fish. We ate in comfortable silence, our knees touching under the small table. Every so often Jin would look at me and smile, and I’d have to remind myself that this was real, that he’d kissed me, that everything had changed.

When we finished, he stood and held out his hand. “Come to bed.”

My heart jumped. “Jin⁠—”

“To sleep,” he said, but there was color in his cheeks. Then he seemed to notice what I was still wearing. The smoke-stained shirt, the ash-smudged pants. His expression softened. “You should shower first. And you need clean clothes.”

I looked down at myself. He was right, I probably smelled like a bonfire. “I don’t have anything here. My bags must be in a room down the hall.”

“Wear something of mine.” He was already moving to his suitcase, pulling out a t-shirt and soft cotton pants. “These will be big on you, but better than sleeping in...” He gestured at my clothes, nose wrinkling slightly.

I took the clothes, our fingers brushing. “Thank you.”

“Shower,” he said gently. “Take your time. I’ll...” He glanced at the hotel robe he was wearing. “I’ll change too.”

The shower was quick but necessary. I washed away the smoke, the fear, the residue of the worst night of my life. Jin’s clothes held the slight floral scent of the Pigeon fabric softener we stylists all used. The shirt hung loose on my smaller frame, and the pants needed rolling at the waist.

When I emerged, Jin was already in bed. He’d turned down the covers next to him and I saw he wore a simple white t-shirt and sleep shorts. The hotel robe was draped over a chair.

He smiled and patted the mattress beside him. “Come here.”

The bed was hotel-luxury enormous, and when we lay down there was still space between us. For about thirty seconds. Then Jin shifted closer, his head on my shoulder, one arm across my chest.