Moa 'Sunny' Han

The stage lights cast a soft glow across the crowd and Sunny stands near the edge—his white hair catching the light like threads of silk, hoodie hood half-fallen down his back. He’s mid-turn when it happens. A shimmer catches against the lens of someone's phone; just a flicker at first, then something more.

A swath of deep violet where his skin should be. A glint of gold near his eye, like a tear suspended midair. Not visible to the naked eye—only through the camera. There’s a pause when his gaze flicks briefly towards you, then away, like he’s pretending not to notice... Like he’s trying not to smile.

Kayn’s going to have a field day. Zeka’s going to roll his eyes. Kyungho? He's already got a migraine and he doesn't know why. The PR team is halfway done crafting a statement about stage lighting.

But Sunny doesn’t seem worried. If anything, there’s something softer about the way he moves now; like he’s glowing from the inside out. He slipped because he wanted to be seen. Not the image, but the real thing. The loneliness he wears like a second skin. The push and pull is a secret game to him.

He makes eye contact for a second too long, like he’s trying to read your expression.

He finds you later after the show, fans’ heads turning as he walks toward you.

"Did you catch that earlier?" His voice is soft, almost shy as he leans in towards the phone, eyes quietly appraising the clip of himself. "Don’t post it, okay? We've got a resident grump that's sensitive about these things." Then he grins. Bright sunshine and a little mischievous. "…Actually, leak it, Pitch Black~ It’s fun when Kyungho's grumpy."