S P E C I A L

The rooftop was glowing with soft fairy lights, the scent of fresh flowers filling the night air. In the middle of it all stood Choi Seungcheol, straightening the sleeves of his beige linen shirt, heart thudding in a rhythm no stage had ever caused.

“Kkuma’s ready,” Mingyu whispered with a wink, crouching beside the pup who now sported a ribbon and a tiny ring box attached to her collar. “And Jaehyuk-hyung is keeping her distracted.”

“Distracted?” Scoups blinked.

“Yeah, they passed a churro stand. You know how she gets,” Jaehyuk’s voice cut in through the earpiece. “She said ‘give me five minutes’ and she’s talking to a churro vendor like it’s the love of her life.”

Scoups stifled a laugh, nerves still bubbling. “That’s my girl.”

Hoshi walked by with a bouquet. “Your girl. Soon to be your fiancée,” he teased.

The team—SEVENTEEN and two honorary conspirators, Jaehyuk and Ayun—had been preparing this moment for weeks.

Scoups had wanted everything to reflect Heyoung’s world: soft lights, a playlist filled with her favorite old-school ballads, and Kkuma sitting proudly in the middle of it all like the unofficial flower pup.

“She’s here,” Jaehyuk’s voice said in a lower tone.

The door to the rooftop clicked open, and Heyoung stepped out, eyes adjusting to the glow. She was wearing a powder-blue dress that caught the light, and her gaze met Seungcheol’s almost instantly.

“Cheol?” she blinked, confused but smiling. “Why is it so—”

Her breath caught as the music changed.

“Still With You” played softly over the speakers, and she froze mid-step.

“Kkuma?” she noticed the pup running toward her with the tiny box on her collar. Her brows furrowed. “What in the—?”

And that’s when Scoups took slow steps forward.

“Hi,” he said, standing in front of her.

“You planned this?” she whispered.

“I had help,” he admitted, eyes glinting.

“You sneaky, wonderful liar,” she murmured, covering her mouth.

He knelt slowly, Kkuma sitting like a little wing-pup beside him. Heyoung’s hands trembled.

“I don’t know how to do this perfectly,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “But I know I want to do it with you—for the rest of my life.”

Her eyes shimmered.

“Lee Heyoung,” he said, gently taking the ring from the box, “you make my chaos feel calm. You’ve held me through storms I didn’t even see coming. And I know the world is fast, and fame is fleeting, but the way I love you? That’s something I’m sure of. So please… will you marry me?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she nodded.

“Yes. Yes, a thousand times.”

Applause broke out as SEVENTEEN burst through the rooftop door, with Jaehyuk giving the loudest whoop and Ayun crying harder than the bride-to-be.

Mingyu passed out mocktail glasses. “To the future Mr. and Mrs. Choi!”

“You two are disgusting,” Joshua smiled, misty-eyed.

“They’re perfect,” Jeonghan corrected, hugging Heyoung from the side.

Later that night, after the guests had gone and the rooftop lights dimmed, Scoups and Heyoung returned to his apartment—Kkuma fast asleep on the back seat of the car, curled like a cinnamon bun.

When they entered the quiet living room, Scoups dropped his keys, turned to Heyoung, and pulled her into a kiss—soft, grateful, and deeply needed. His fingers gently traced her jaw, the pad of his thumb brushing away the last of her tears.

“I still can’t believe you planned all that,” she murmured against his lips.

“I’d plan it again,” he said, voice low. “Every week. Just to see that look on your face.”

Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the quiet thrum of his heartbeat under her fingertips. “You really love me that much?”

He leaned in again, their foreheads touching. “More than anything.”

The kiss deepened slowly, no rush—just the weight of emotion they had both been holding in for so long. His hands slid around her waist, pulling her gently closer as she leaned into him, breath hitching at the warmth of his touch.

The city lights glimmered outside the window, casting a faint glow into the room.

Their silhouettes danced along the wall as Seungcheol pressed a soft trail of kisses along her collarbone, reverent and lingering.

Heyoung let out a soft sound as her hands threaded into his hair. “Cheol…”

“Hmm?” he asked, lips brushing against her neck.

“Nothing. Just… I love you,” she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion.

He smiled against her skin. “Good. Because I’m going to keep loving you like this. Always.”

Clothes slowly disappeared—carefully, almost reverently—until the world felt quiet and warm and safe. No cameras, no expectations. Just skin against skin, heartbeat against heartbeat.

Theirs was a slow kind of intimacy. A reunion, a promise, a celebration of everything they’d built between the cracks of their busy, chaotic lives.

When it was over, they lay tangled in the sheets, breath steadying, arms wrapped around each other. Kkuma snored softly at the foot of the bed.

“I think she approves of the ring,”

Heyoung joked, her finger glinting faintly in the moonlight.

“She’ll be the flower pup at the wedding,” Seungcheol mumbled, burying his face in her neck.

Heyoung giggled. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

She smiled, carding her fingers through his hair. “Then let’s get married somewhere simple. Like Jeju.”

He looked up, eyes soft. “Wherever you want, Love.”

“Just don’t forget this moment.”

“Never.”

And just like that, they drifted to sleep—engaged, a little tangled, and absolutely at peace.