"Eomma, why can't I see my eyes?" Soomi asks, her quiet voice groggy and even cuter to you than usual. Your fingers pause in weaving Soomi's long, dark strands, and a smile sneaks itself onto your face. If your daughter could see you, she'd tell you to stop smiling and get embarrassed, but luckily, she seems quite immersed in her cereal as you stand behind her to do her hair.

"Because. They're busy seeing other things." You say good naturedly. Trying to explain the real reason to Soomi is useless, considering she is six. She is smart, but she can still be fooled. This is proven due to the amount of bullshit answers you have given to impossible questions Soomi has asked you. Soomi's thoughts in the morning are random, and always catch you off guard.

"Oh. Makes sense." She said, spooning a heaping helping of Froot Loops into her mouth, making her already chubby cheeks even more cushiony. You resist the urge to squeeze them.

"Hey, Y/n, could you come here for a second?" A deep voice calls you. You look up from braiding your daughter's hair as she eats her cereal. Mornings in your house are always chaotic, considering no one in your little family is a morning person, but you didn't mind. Seeing Soomi's chubby cheeks and early morning cuddles with Sejun were worth waking up early. "I'm struggling." Sejun continues. Quickening the pace of your fingers, you rapidly fasten the elastic before tying a little pink bow around the end of the braid. Pecking Soomi's forehead gently, you mumble something about finishing her breakfast before joining your husband in the bedroom you share.

Sejun is wearing his work suit, and you secretly admire the way his broad shoulders look in it. He buttons his suit jacket before seeing you leaning against the doorframe in the mirror. Smiling, he turns and walks to you, all tall frame, long legs and wide strides.

"You called?" You tease, grinning as he approaches you. He points to his tie, which you only just notice is undone and drapes around his neck. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "Do you need something?"

"I seem to have forgotten how to tie a tie." He said. You squint at him.

"You literally tied it yesterday—"

"Shh. But we're gonna pretend I forgot." He smirks. The suggestive glint in his light brown eyes finally lets you in on the angle he's playing. Nibbling your lower lip between your teeth, the butterflies erupt in your stomach. Five years of being married to Sejun, and you still react to his slightest attempts at affection like a teenage girl. You find it embarrassing, but luckily for you, he finds it endearing. You reach up and pull him closer by his tie, welcoming his lips onto yours. This sends the butterflies into your stomach into a frenzy. The kiss is short and sweet, but the smile that plays on each of your lips shows that it felt like more than that. You know that Sejun has a prolonged effect on you, and so does he.

That smile doesn't leave your lips as your fingers nimbly tie his tie, tightening it gently around his neck and accepting his embrace. In fact, it doesn't leave your lips at all, even as you get Soomi dressed, make Sejun his coffee, bade them each a goodbye and a good day with a kiss on their cheeks. Even when you watch them make their way down the drive way, drive away in the car, and retreat back into the house to get yourself ready. It is somehow still present when you get in your own car and drive to your photography studio, despite the bad morning rush of traffic. Humming under your breath, you park and gather your ridiculously large bag of equipment from your trunk. You lug the heavy bag to the door, and hold your bagel between your teeth as you go to unlock the door.

You stop. The door is already unlocked. Suddenly, it hits you. You have an early morning shoot, and your co-owner, Yuna, must have arrived first. Frowning only a little, you hope you haven't kept anyone waiting, and open the door. The little bell tingles, and the sound alone brings the smile back to your face. Even if you are late, you are not about to let it ruin your good mood or your perfect morning. You return your keys to your back pocket and the bagel to your hand, chewing as you enter the studio.

"Y/n! Where have you been?" Yuna pounces on you before you even have a chance to set your heavy bag down. Definitely the more headstrong one in your partnership, Yuna is possibly the shortest grown woman you know, and also potentially the most likely to kill someone if they cross her. Somehow, she's your best friend. Yuna handles the business aspect of your studio: enlists clients, schedules shoots, finds magazines who want to publish your photos; that sort of thing. You basically just show up with a camera and let her order you around, in the best way possible. You don't care, as long as you get to take photos. Photography is your passion, which you discovered back in high school. Capturing life's beauty in a picture; for you, it couldn't get much better than that. "The models are getting ready in the dressing room right now."

Shit. Your smile faded, but only a little. You can hear the rambunctious sounds of deep voices, music, and a few female tones mixed in here and there.

"How many people are we shooting today?" You ask, confused by how many people seem to be crammed inside the relatively small dressing room. Yuna drags her hand over her face in exasperation.

"Do you listen to anything I say? Anything at all?" She practically hisses. You smile innocently, giving her your best puppy dog eyes. You like to think you give actually puppies a run for their money. Yuna—not so much. "Dear God, there are seven. They're a band. I sent you emails. They're pretty damn important." You scoff a little, put your heavy bag down on a table with a thump and begin to sift through your cameras, lenses and tripods, bagel clamped between your teeth once more. Yuna always tells you to organize your gigantic mess of a bag. Not surprisingly, you never do.

"You know I don't read the emails." You mumble through your bagel, before letting out a quiet "Aha!" when you discover the camera and lens that you are looking for. It sounds more like "Gyu knowa don ree da emills," but Yuna understands anyways. You wipe off the lens with the hem of your shirt before attaching it to the camera and returning your bagel to your hand. "And besides, I'm here now. Ready to roll." Yuna can practically see the lightbulb go off above your head. She knows what's coming. "Ha, get it? Roll?" You point to your bagel. "'Cause it's bread?"

"That was tragic. Read your emails." Yuna says.

"You're tragic. Stop sending the emails, you know I won't read them." You counter, gesturing with your bagel. You swear Yuna's left eye twitches as she glares at you; a glare that would make grown men cry for their mothers. You laugh.

"Oh, just shut up and finish your bagel." She snaps, walking back over to the white background that is set up against the wall. You follow, dragging your huge bag with you. The voices of the models fill the air as you set up the tripods and other cameras. "Are you composed yet? Can you please act like a professional for once in your life? Please?" Yuna pleads, glancing over at you. You smile, sobering up a little, but not letting your good mood leave you.

"Yeah, I'll behave." You reassure her. She lets out a sigh and relaxes her shoulders before walking over to the dressing room door. She knocks.

"We're ready whenever you are." She informs them. She is answered by a chorus of okay's, and within a few minutes, the first boy makes his way out of the dressing room. You see him, and you immediately get so excited to shoot him. No, not with a gun, don't get it twisted. The man's smile is huge as he walks over to greet you. It's his smile that made your fingers itch to take photos of him. It lights up the entire room, hell, the entire universe. You've been a photographer for a vast multitude of good-looking people, but this man was something unlike you've ever seen before. Unadulterated joy radiates off of him, and you find it infectious, feeling it fuel your good mood even more.

"So, I'm guessing you're the photographer?" He says, pointing to the camera in your hands. You grin and nod, faking an exaggerated gasp.

"What gave it away?" You joke, and he laughs. Gosh, his laugh was the audible embodiment of his smile. "I'm Y/n."

"Hoseok." He says, bowing to you respectfully. "The others will be out in a little, they take sixty seven million years to get ready."

"Approximately?" You tease.

"You're right, I'm exaggerating, closer to sixty six." He plays along, and you grin, walking over to your camera. You motion to the white backdrop, and he nods, walking over to stand in front of it for a screen test. Hoseok clearly knows the drill, and you can tell he's done this plenty of times before. Normally, you talk to the models during screen testing to make them more comfortable in front of the camera, but you talk to Hoseok for the experience of talking to him, considering he didn't need any coaxing to be himself in front of your lens.

"So, what kind of music do you make?" You ask, bringing your eye to the viewfinder. You take a few shots, and Hoseok looks mildly surprised. He had assumed you at least had some idea of who he was since the fact was that most people did, but it came as a pleasant surprise to him that you didn't. Now, he doesn't have to pertain to any prearranged stereotype, and that takes a huge amount of stress off his shoulders. You notice his surprise, and straighten up slightly, hoping you didn't say something wrong. "You do make music, right? I'm not just hallucinating that Yuna told me we're shooting a band today?"

"No, you're right, sorry." He laughs, changing up his poses naturally. Yeah, he has clearly participated in more than a couple photoshoots, that was for sure. The ease he has in front of a camera takes a type of expertise that requires a good amount of practice, and you notice quickly. "We do all kinds of things, but with the basis of rap and vocals. We switch up the style, though." He explains. You hum, making a few adjustments on your camera.

"Which are you? A rapper or a vocalist?" You ask, glancing up curiously.

"A rapper, and a dancer." He says, looking down shyly. He's humble, you note. He doesn't like to brag, you can tell.

"That's awesome. I knew a guy who was a rapper once, you know." You inform him jokingly. "And I took ballet until I was seven. We should collaborate, us professionals." You tease, and he laughs, his brilliant smile again resurfacing. You take a snapshot, and smile softly to yourself. Smiles are always hard to capture, you think, because a smile is more than just the movement of the lips. A smile is a sparkle of joy in the eye, a dimple in the cheek, a crinkle of the nose. There are so many factors that go into a simple smile that makes taking photos of one so difficult. And yet, Hoseok's smile translates perfectly. "Alright, you're all set. You can go tell whoever else is ready to come get screen tested." You say. Hoseok nods, offering you a grin and a small bow before running off to the back.

You reset your cameras, good mood even better due to Hoseok's contagious happiness. You are just beginning to wonder where Yuna has run off to when the soft click of men's dress shoes on hardwood floor fills your ears. A little excited, you make the finishing adjustments on the camera and lighting. If the other band mates are anything like Hoseok, this photoshoot is going to be a breeze. You have worked with divas before, and it is an all around unpleasant experience, but Hoseok couldn't be further from a diva. You are fiddling with the backdrop when the clicking enters the room, but abruptly stops. Your smile, the one you have been proudly wearing since this morning, widens. This member must be shy. "Hi, come on over." You call, back still facing the halted newcomer.

"Y/n?"

You stop messing with the background, but don't turn around. How does he know your name? Something nags at the back of your mind. There's something about his voice, you determine. Something about the tone, smoother than velvet on glass. You look up, turning to face the newcomer.

You see him. You blink. He blinks.

You suddenly aren't so smiley anymore.