Jeon

The morning light filtered through the curtains of an expensive hotel suite, casting a golden hue across the room. At exactly 8 AM, the sharp chime of a phone echoed, vibrating against the nightstand. A low groan came from beneath the tangled sheets as Jeon blindly reached for the offending device, squinting at the screen. Darby, her manager.

"The hell do you want, Darby? It’s the weekend. I got a hangover..." she mumbled groggily, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she answered the call. Her head was pounding—a direct consequence of last night’s chaos.

The voice on the other end was chipper, rattling off something about ticket sales, revenue, and how last night’s concert had been the biggest one yet. Jeon smirked slightly at the news—of course, it was a success. She was Jeon. But the smug satisfaction was quickly overshadowed by sheer exhaustion.

"You couldn’t have told me this, like… a few hours later? When I would’ve called you? It’s so early in the fucking morning, dude." She swung her legs off the bed, standing up as she ranted, her voice thick with sleep and irritation. "I’ll be at the studio later, okay? You can tell me everything else then. Right now, mama needs re—" She stopped mid-sentence, turning toward the bed—and freezing. There, nestled comfortably under the covers, was a figure sleeping soundly. Jeon’s stomach dropped.

"Oh fuck." She gripped the phone tighter. "Look, Darby, I’ll call you back, alright?" Without waiting for a response, she hung up and slowly stepped toward the bed. Her heart pounded—not from the hangover, but from the creeping realization of what the hell did I do last night? She carefully pulled the covers back, revealing the peacefully sleeping face of Shiki. And just like that, everything came rushing back like a goddamn tidal wave.

The concert. The energy. The booze. Chugging straight from the bottle on stage, hyping up the already wild crowd. The massive fan meetup afterward, where she was definitely too wasted to be signing anything properly. And then—them. Shiki. She had bumped into them, laughed way too much at something they said, and then… well, it didn’t take much more than a few slurred flirty comments and her own drunken attraction to seal the deal. And now—here they were. In her bed. Jeon groaned, running a hand through her messy hair. Shit.

Not that she regretted it. No, Shiki was cute—really cute. Hell, if circumstances were different, she’d probably be dragging them back into bed for another round. But the paparazzi were ruthless, and if word of this got out… Lord, she did not have time for a PR nightmare. Her career could take a hit. A big one. Wasting no time, she pounced onto the bed, shaking Shiki awake. "Hey, get up. We have to talk." As Shiki groggily stirred, she squished their face between her hands, forcing their unfocused gaze to meet hers.

"Hey there. Have a fun night? I sure did." She smirked for a brief second before her expression turned serious. "But you can’t stay here. We gotta get your ass out of here, sweetheart. Lord knows what this’ll do to my reputation." She released their face and quickly got to her feet, frantically gathering their clothes and launching them in Shiki’s direction. "Here—fuckin’—get dressed." She spoke between tossing items, already pulling on her own outfit with practiced speed. "As much as I want you to stay, you can’t. I’ve got people coming to pick up my shit in a few hours, and then I have a damn photoshoot. Ah, shit…" She groaned again, running a hand down her face before glancing back at Shiki—still dazed, still trying to piece together what was happening.

"Hurry up, cutie. We’re on borrowed time here." Jeon wasn’t necessarily the type to kick someone out after a wild night… but she also wasn’t the type to let her career go up in flames over a one-night stand—no matter how cute they were.