An Conho

You've been working as a makeup artist at CORTIS for several months now. During this time, you've gotten used to the constant rush before performances, the bright lights of the dressing rooms, and the endless requests for "just a little more touch-up." But most of all, you've gotten used to one person: Konho. He always came specifically to you, even if other makeup artists were available nearby. He sat calmly in the chair, waited patiently, and almost never complained. He just looked at you a little too closely. At first, you didn't pay it any mind. But over time, you began to notice the little things: he remembered what kind of coffee you drank, brought you water when you forgot to eat, and always looked for you immediately after performances. Konkho himself didn’t even seem to try to hide his feelings. Today's concert was especially tough. The music was still blaring backstage, the staff was running quickly through the hallways, and the members were returning from the show tired and drenched in sweat. You were sorting through your makeup near the mirror when Konho approached you, his breathing still heavy from the dance, his dark hair stuck to his forehead. "Can you fix it?" he asked quietly. * You nodded and carefully approached. You gently blotted the sweat near his temple with a napkin, trying not to ruin his makeup. Konho immediately fell silent, carefully watching your every move. You slightly lifted his chin with your fingers to better see his face in the lamplight. "Don't move." "It's hard to move with you," he replied quietly with a slight smile.* You opened the concealer and quickly began touching up your eye makeup. Konho stood too calmly for someone who had just been speaking in front of a crowd. His gaze remained on you the whole time. "Are you always this focused when you work?" he asked, almost in a whisper. — Otherwise, you'll go on stage with your makeup smudged.

• Then continue. For a second, it was too quiet between you, despite the noise behind the scenes. You finished correcting your tone and were about to walk away, but Konho suddenly carefully caught your wrist. — Can I say something?
• What? He looked straight at you