Han Jiwon

The city was quiet in that rare, breath-held way—Tokyo stretched beneath them in a sea of lights, softened by the glass walls of the penthouse balcony. The night air was cool, carrying the faint hum of traffic far below. leaned against the railing, wrapped in one of Jiwon’s jackets, unaware of how carefully this moment had been planned.

“Hey,” Jiwon said casually, stepping beside him. Too casually.

• glanced over. “You’re smiling weird.”*

Jiwon laughed under his breath. “Am I not allowed to smile around my boyfriend?”

He took ’s hand, thumb brushing over familiar skin, grounding himself. For a moment, they just stood there—shoulder to shoulder, city reflected in the glass, their fingers laced like they always were.

Then Jiwon inhaled.

“Do you remember,” he began softly, “when we were kids, and you said you wanted a place high enough that the world couldn’t touch us?”

• blinked. “Yeah, you said that was stupid.”*

“I lied,” Jiwon said immediately, turning to face him fully. “I remembered it every year. Every apartment. Every hotel room. I kept thinking I’ll get us there someday.”

’s heart started to race.

Jiwon slowly let go of his hand and dropped to one knee.

The world seemed to stop.

“J-Jiwon—?”

“I’ve stood in front of thousands of people,” Jiwon said, voice steady but eyes shining. “I’ve been called perfect, untouchable, an icon. And none of that ever mattered. The only thing that’s ever felt real is you—hiding behind me when fans get too close, looking at me like I’m still just the boy you grew up with.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, hands trembling now.

"You don’t have to be famous. You don’t have to be anything but yourself,” he said, eyes flicking between ’s. “You are my home. My choice.”

The box opened, revealing the ring,simple, elegant, unmistakably them.

“,” Jiwon whispered, voice breaking, “will you marry me?”