Chapter Text
Starlit was a duo. Everyone knew that.
Two members, two voices, two halves of a unit that had debuted together and built their name side by side. For fans, it was impossible to separate them. The marketing, the music videos, the stage arrangements, everything came in pairs. Seon Ahyeon and Lee Sejin. Starlit only made sense when both names were said in one breath.
Everyone knew that. Except Ryu Gunwoo. Well, he knows Starlit is a duo, but he refuses to acknowledge the other member.
Gunwoo ran a fansite called Ahyeon Planet, and his photos told a different story. Scroll through his account and you'd never guess Starlit had two members. Every shot was angled, cropped, or blurred until the only person left in focus was Seon Ahyeon, his bias. If Lee Sejin happened to be standing in the same spotlight, he was reduced to a shoulder, a sleeve, a blurred outline. Sometimes he was there so obviously that people pointed it out in the replies, circling the cropped edges as proof. Gunwoo never responded.
Within the fandom, he had a reputation. The polite term was "Ahyeon-only." The less polite one was "akgae."
The arguments came in waves. Some fans complained that it was disrespectful, that ignoring one half of a duo was basically erasing the group itself. Others defended him, insisting that good previews were good previews, no matter what. And Gunwoo stayed silent, uploading new sets without a single mention of the other name in Starlit.
It wasn't that he hated Lee Sejin, at least not in the way people accused him of. He just didn't see the point. To Gunwoo, the music, the stages, the heart of Starlit lived in Seon Ahyeon alone. His lens wasn't for documenting balance. It was for capturing one person exactly as he wanted the world to see him and if that meant cutting out the other half of a duo every single time, then so be it.
In the Starlit fandom, Ahyeon Planet was both admired and side-eyed.
Other fansites had cultivated a kind of personality online. They replied to their followers, they posted memes, they shared cute anecdotes from fansigns. Gunwoo never did. His account was a gallery, nothing more. Previews, sets, the occasional schedule update. No chatter, no jokes, no opinions. If anyone tagged him in discourse, they got nothing back.
That silence shaped his reputation. People imagined him as cold, maybe arrogant, maybe a little unapproachable. Some said he probably sneered at other fansites behind their backs. Others claimed he must be a perfectionist, pouring all his energy into editing instead of small talk. The truth was less dramatic.
Gunwoo just didn't feel the need to explain himself.
In person, he was easy enough to spot if you knew what to look for. A black cap tugged low, glasses perched on his nose, camera strap slung across his chest. He kept his expression flat even in the middle of a screaming crowd, watching the stage with the calm of someone at work rather than at play. While other fansite masters cheered or waved their lightsticks, Gunwoo's hands stayed steady on his camera. Deadpan, always.
That was what made his previews so striking. He didn't chase the funny expressions or chaotic moments. He caught the clean lines of a performance, the unguarded second where Ahyeon looked almost unreal. It was focus, pure and simple, and it gave his shots a sharpness that others struggled to match.
His followers adored that. They called his photos art, they said his timing was insane, they swore his previews looked better than official press pictures. And then, inevitably, someone would reply: Yeah, but he never posts Lee Sejin.
That was the constant refrain. Gunwoo's reputation was never just about his talent. It was about the hole in his feed where the other half of the duo should have been.
Some fans tried to excuse it. It's his account, he can choose what he wants to shoot. Others weren't so kind. Imagine being in a two-member group and some fansite pretends you don't exist. The arguments flared up every few weeks, circling back whenever his photos went viral. Gunwoo ignored them all.
He wasn't doing it to pick fights. He wasn't even doing it to make a statement. He simply preferred it this way. A cap tugged low, a camera in his hands, Ahyeon in his viewfinder, the rest of the world cropped out.
::
The fansign hall was loud, brighter than it looked in fancams, filled with the constant rustle of paper bags and the squeak of sneakers against the floor. Gunwoo had managed to secure a front-row seat, a spot close enough that every shot should've been perfect. He'd lined up his gear: lens checked, cap tugged low, glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose.
Today was supposed to be easy. Seon Ahyeon was in a white knit sweater that softened his frame, hair dyed a warm brown that caught the overhead lights just right. Every angle screamed preview material. Gunwoo could already imagine the captions: our angel in winter colors.
Except there was one problem.
Lee Sejin.
It was like the man had decided to ruin him on purpose. No matter how Gunwoo adjusted, Sejin drifted into every frame. Leaning toward fans, flashing grins, sitting just close enough to Ahyeon that their shoulders brushed. Even when Gunwoo zoomed, Sejin's arm or profile cut into the edge of the shot.
"Unbelievable," Gunwoo muttered under his breath, snapping another ruined photo. He cursed softly, the sound drowned out by the cheers around him. "I didn't drop half a paycheck for this seat just to get photobombed every five seconds."
The fans beside him were too busy screaming "Sejin-ah!" to notice his complaints. Gunwoo gritted his teeth, shifted his angle again, and focused hard on Ahyeon. Click. Click. Perfect smile, perfect pose until Sejin leaned over to sign an album and half his face filled the lens.
Gunwoo swore louder this time, earning a side glance from the girl next to him. He ignored it, scrolling through the previews already cluttered with Sejin's presence. Cropping would be impossible. The angles were too tight, the light too unforgiving. It felt like sabotage.
"Why can't you sit still," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "You're not even my subject."
Up on stage, Sejin moved with the confidence of someone who had long ago learned how to make every fan feel seen. His laughter carried across the room, and he never hesitated to make eye contact no matter who was seated in front of him. Gunwoo kept trying to block him out, but the man was impossible to ignore.
And then it happened.
Gunwoo adjusted his lens one more time, determined to get at least a clean set of Ahyeon's smile. He looked up through the viewfinder and found Sejin staring straight at him.
Not at the row. Not at the crowd. At him. Out of all the people there, Sejin just had to stare at him?!
Before Gunwoo could even lower the camera, Sejin's mouth curved into a grin, and he winked. A full on wink, and it sent the entire venue screaming.
Gunwoo's finger froze on the shutter. The preview burned across his screen, Sejin's wink captured in crystal clarity.
"You've got to be kidding me."