#charlieg1rl

it was a rare quiet evening when the stray kids members decided to gather at the minsung dorm for dinner. the suggestion had come from jisung, who eagerly offered to cook for the group, though it was mostly a guise to invite everyone to his and minho’s place without having to do too much work.

as the members shuffled inside, they were surprised by how spotless the dorm looked.

“did you guys finally clean up?” hyunjin teased, kicking off his shoes.

“no,” jisung replied absentmindedly. “it wasn’t like this this morning.”

“must’ve been my sister,” minho said casually as he walked toward the kitchen, not realizing the ripple his comment sent through the group.

“wait,” felix blinked, following closely behind. “your sister was here?”

“you have a sister?” seungmin added, voice tinged with disbelief.

“yes, I have a sister. y/n. i’ve mentioned her before,” minho said with a sigh, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“sure, you’ve mentioned her,” jeongin cut in, “but none of us have actually met her.”

“except for me,” jisung interjected with a smug grin.

“barely,” minho said, side-eyeing his roommate. “she only tolerates you because she feels sorry for me.”

jisung opened his mouth to argue but froze mid-thought. “wait, if she was here earlier… does that mean she’s still here?”

minho shrugged. “probably.”

at that moment, the members heard a faint rustling from the living room. they turned toward the sound, and there she was—y/n.

she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, glasses perched on her nose as she sorted through what looked like a stack of unfolded laundry, with soonie, doongie and dori surrounding her. she froze as soon as she realized the dorm was no longer empty, her eyes darting to minho in silent panic.

“relax,” minho said with a slight smirk, sensing her unease. “they’re harmless. for the most part.”

the room erupted in greetings, though y/n barely had a chance to process them before jisung stepped forward, his grin wide. “y/n! fancy seeing you not sneaking out before anyone arrives.”

she rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, instead shooting minho a glare. “you could’ve told me they were coming.”

“i forgot,” he said dismissively, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

“typical.”

the rest of the members watched the sibling interaction in awe. it wasn’t hard to see how alike they were—the sarcastic humor, the dry delivery, the subtle but obvious affection they hid behind teasing.

hyunjin was the first to speak. “wow, she really is minho’s sister.”

“i told you!” jisung exclaimed, looking smug again.

as the night went on, the members began to settle in. though y/n remained reserved, she eventually warmed up enough to answer felix’s curious questions and chuckle at jeongin’s jokes. minho kept a watchful eye on her the entire time, like a hawk ensuring no one overstepped any boundaries.

still, jisung couldn’t help but hover close to y/n, playfully nudging her or making random comments to get a reaction. minho noticed.

“jisung,” minho called, his voice dangerously calm, “stop bothering her.”

“i’m not bothering her,” jisung defended, though he immediately took a step back.

“you’re breathing near her. that’s enough.”

“oppa,” y/n said dryly, though her cheeks turned pink as she pushed her glasses further up her nose. “i can handle it.”

jisung caught the blush and grinned. “see? she’s fine!”

minho shot him a look that promised doom, and jisung immediately busied himself with serving dinner.

by the end of the night, y/n had begun to loosen up completely, even joining in the banter with the others. jisung, however, took it one step further, casually leaning close as they cleared the dishes together.

“you should visit more often,” he said quietly, his usual playfulness replaced with something more sincere.

y/n blinked up at him, caught off guard. “why?”

jisung shrugged, his eyes soft. “because it’s nice having you around.”

before she could respond, minho appeared behind them, arms crossed and eyes narrowing at jisung. “what’s going on here?”

“nothing!” jisung said quickly, stepping away from y/n.

minho didn’t buy it, but instead of saying more, he put a hand on y/n’s shoulder, steering her toward the door. “time for you to head home.”

“oppa, i can stay—”

“no,” he interrupted firmly, his eyes flicking to jisung. “you can’t.”

y/n sighed but didn’t argue, knowing better than to push when minho got like this. she turned back to the others, offering a small smile. “it was nice meeting you all.”

“come back soon!” felix called after her.

once the door shut behind her, minho turned back to the group, his gaze landing squarely on jisung.

“just so we’re clear,” he said, his tone deceptively light, “she’s off-limits.”

jisung raised his hands in surrender but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips. off-limits or not, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get her out of his head.

after y/n left, the atmosphere in the dorm shifted slightly. the usual energy returned—laughter, teasing, and banter—but every now and then, jisung would glance at the door as if expecting her to come back.

minho didn’t miss it.

“stop looking at the door like a lost puppy,” minho said bluntly, sliding into the seat next to jisung.

“i wasn’t!” jisung argued, his voice pitching higher than usual.

minho raised an eyebrow. “you were.”

“i just think she’s cool!” jisung protested, flustered.

“careful, jisung,” seungmin teased from the couch. “you’re one step away from catching feelings.”

jisung opened his mouth to argue but hesitated. “i mean, would it be so bad?”

the room went silent.

chan was the first to break it, laughing incredulously. “are you seriously saying this in front of minho?”

“yeah, man,” felix added, gesturing wildly. “have you met minho? he’s going to kill you.”

“not yet,” minho said, his voice eerily calm as he leaned back in his chair. “but keep talking, and i might reconsider.”

“okay, okay!” jisung said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. “no one’s catching feelings, no one’s doing anything. it was just a hypothetical!”

“good,” minho said, standing up and brushing his hands on his jeans. “let’s keep it that way.”

meanwhile, y/n was already at home, curled up on the couch with her laptop. she had planned to study, but her mind kept drifting back to jisung’s parting words.

"it’s nice having you around."

she shook her head, trying to brush it off, but the way he had looked at her—like she wasn’t just minho’s sister but someone interesting—lingered in her mind longer than she wanted to admit.

over the next few weeks, y/n began visiting the minsung dorm a little less frequently. it wasn’t intentional, but between schoolwork and minho’s overly watchful eyes, she thought it best to create some distance.

but jisung noticed.

“hey,” he said casually one day as he caught her in the hallway of her university. he wasn’t supposed to be there—it wasn’t even close to his schedule—but felix had let it slip where y/n studied, and jisung couldn’t resist.

y/n blinked up at him in surprise. “what are you doing here?”

“me?” jisung said, leaning casually against the wall. “oh, you know, just in the area.”

she didn’t buy it for a second. “really.”

“okay, fine,” he admitted, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “i might’ve asked felix where you study. don’t be mad.”

“i’m not mad,” she said, though her voice was skeptical. “just… confused?”

jisung rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “i just… haven’t seen you in a while. it’s been weird not having you around. i kind of got used to you hanging out at the dorm.”

y/n’s eyes softened at his honesty. “you could’ve just asked minho.”

“yeah, no,” jisung said, laughing nervously. “i value my life too much for that.”

she chuckled at that, pushing her glasses up. “well, i’ve been busy. school, projects, all that.”

“right, right,” jisung said, nodding. “but, uh… if you ever want a study buddy or just a break from all that, i’m always around. you don’t have to wait until minho’s not home to come by, you know.”

y/n smiled, her heart fluttering despite herself. “i’ll think about it.”

when y/n finally did stop by the minsung dorm again, it was unplanned. she had just finished a long day of classes and wanted somewhere quiet to relax. she wasn’t expecting jisung to be home—he was supposed to have practice—but when she unlocked the door and stepped inside, there he was, sprawled on the couch.

jisung froze, clearly caught off guard, but then his face broke into a grin. “y/n! finally decided to visit me, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” she said, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

she set her bag down and made her way to the kitchen, but before she could get far, jisung called after her.

“wait, wait, wait,” he said, jumping up from the couch. “you just got here. sit down for a bit.”

“jisung, i’m tired—”

“so sit,” he said, gently guiding her to the couch.

y/n sighed but relented, sinking into the cushions. jisung sat beside her, his grin softening into something more sincere.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he said after a moment.

y/n glanced at him, surprised by his tone. “you really mean that, don’t you?”

“of course i do,” jisung said, his voice quiet but firm. “you’re more than just minho’s sister, you know. you’re… you. and i like having you around.”

before y/n could respond, the front door opened, and minho walked in. his eyes immediately narrowed as he saw jisung sitting so close to her.

“what’s going on here?” minho asked, his voice cold enough to send shivers down both their spines.

“nothing!” jisung and y/n said in unison, springing apart.

minho didn’t believe them for a second.

“jisung,” he said slowly, stepping closer, “if i find out you’re even thinking about crossing a line—”

“i’m not!” jisung interrupted quickly.

minho didn’t respond, his sharp gaze lingering on jisung before finally softening as he turned to y/n. “come on. i’ll take you home.”

y/n hesitated, glancing back at jisung, who gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“go ahead,” he said softly. “i’ll see you around.”

and despite minho’s protective glare, y/n couldn’t help but smile back.

the tension between jisung and minho seemed to grow subtly over the following weeks. it wasn’t outright hostility—minho wasn’t the type to explode—but his sharp eyes were always watching jisung whenever y/n was around.

and jisung? he tried his best to play it cool, but the way his eyes lingered on y/n whenever she visited didn’t go unnoticed.

one evening, y/n found herself back at the minsung dorm. she hadn’t planned to stay long—just drop off some of the snacks minho had asked for—but as soon as she stepped inside, jisung called her over.

“you’re just in time,” he said with a grin, motioning to the table. “we’re having movie night!”

“i wasn’t planning to stay,” she said, glancing toward the kitchen where minho was preparing dinner.

jisung tilted his head, feigning disappointment. “what? too cool to hang out with us now?”

minho’s voice cut in from the kitchen. “she’s not staying because she has better things to do.”

“like what?” jisung challenged, leaning toward y/n. “homework? that can wait.”

y/n hesitated. she had been feeling a little burned out lately, and the idea of a relaxed evening was tempting.

“fine,” she said finally, earning a victorious cheer from jisung.

the group eventually settled on a comedy, though jisung barely paid attention to the screen. he was too focused on y/n, sitting beside him with her knees tucked under her and her glasses slightly askew.

“want some popcorn?” he whispered, holding the bowl toward her.

she shook her head. “i’m good.”

he frowned. “come on, you haven’t eaten anything.”

“jisung, stop babying her,” minho said, appearing behind the couch with a plate of food. he handed it to y/n and crossed his arms. “eat this.”

y/n sighed but accepted the plate, muttering, “you’re worse than mom.”

“good,” minho said, ignoring the jab as he sat on the opposite side of the couch, purposefully positioning himself between y/n and jisung.

jisung opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it, sinking back into the cushions with a pout.

after the movie ended, the members slowly began to disperse, leaving y/n, jisung, and minho alone in the living room.

“you should head home,” minho said to y/n, standing up and stretching.

“i will,” she said, yawning. “but i’ll call a cab. it’s too cold to walk.”

“i’ll drive you,” minho said firmly.

“i can take her,” jisung offered, earning a glare from minho.

“you? take her?” minho scoffed. “you’d probably get lost halfway there.”

jisung rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, knowing it would only escalate.

y/n sighed, standing up and grabbing her bag. “it’s fine. i’ll just—”

“you’re coming with me,” minho said, cutting her off.

y/n gave him a look but didn’t argue, turning to jisung with a small smile. “thanks for the movie night. it was fun.”

“anytime,” jisung said, his grin softening as he watched her leave with minho.

the car ride was quiet until minho finally spoke, his tone laced with warning.

“whatever’s going on with you and jisung… stop it.”

“there’s nothing going on,” y/n said defensively.

“there better not be,” minho muttered. “he’s not the kind of guy you should get involved with.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, crossing her arms.

“it means,” minho said, glancing at her briefly, “that i know jisung. he’s my best friend, he’s great, but he’s impulsive, messy, and doesn’t think things through. i don’t want you getting hurt because of him.”

y/n sighed, leaning back in her seat. “you know, i’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”

“not when it comes to this,” minho said firmly.

————————

despite minho’s warnings, jisung couldn’t help himself. he found excuses to text y/n—funny memes, random thoughts, and even the occasional, “what are you doing?”

and y/n? she found herself looking forward to his messages.

one night, jisung finally worked up the courage to ask her out.

“you’re kidding, right?” minho said when jisung brought it up, his voice calm but his eyes sharp.

“no, i’m not,” jisung said, standing his ground. “i like her, minho, i really do. and i think she likes me too.”

“that doesn’t matter,” minho said coldly. “she’s my sister, jisung. do you know how awkward it’ll be if you screw this up?”

“i’m not going to screw it up,” jisung said earnestly. “i’d never hurt her.”

minho stared at him for a long moment before finally sighing. “if she says no, you back off. and if you hurt her, jisung, i’ll make sure you regret it.”

jisung nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. “got it.”

when jisung finally asked y/n out—nervously stumbling over his words—she blinked up at him in surprise before breaking into a small smile.

“are you sure you want to deal with minho breathing down your neck?” she teased.

he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ve been dealing with that for years. what’s a little more?”

her smile widened as she nodded. “okay. let’s give it a shot.”

minho wasn’t thrilled, but he couldn’t deny the way jisung treated y/n—with patience, humor, and genuine care.

“just remember,” minho said one evening, pulling jisung aside. “if you mess this up, it’s not just her you’ll have to answer to. it’s me.”

jisung nodded, his expression serious. “i know.”

minho stared at him for a moment before nodding. “good. then maybe you’re not a complete idiot after all.”

jisung grinned. “thanks, hyung. that means a lot.”

minho rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “don’t push it.”

as the weeks went by, things between y/n and jisung began to settle into a comfortable routine. they would spend more time together, texting throughout the day and meeting up after classes or during breaks. despite minho's constant watchful eyes, y/n found herself looking forward to their moments together. jisung made her laugh like no one else could, and she found herself drawn to his carefree nature, the way he could always make even the most mundane things feel exciting.

but even as their connection deepened, there was still that lingering tension between jisung and minho. minho didn’t ease up on his protective guard, constantly reminding jisung of his "duties" as her older brother. and jisung? he kept his promise to minho, but he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his words, especially when y/n would laugh at his jokes or lean in a little too close when they were watching a movie.

one evening, y/n found herself sitting on the couch at the minsung dorm, a bowl of popcorn in her lap as she scrolled through her phone. jisung had asked her to come over to watch a movie with him, but now, as she watched him mess with the speakers to get the sound right, she couldn't help but wonder if things were getting a little more complicated than she anticipated.

"hey, what's up?" jisung asked, sitting down next to her, his tone casual. "you seem a little distant tonight."

y/n looked up from her phone, meeting his gaze. "i'm just thinking about school stuff," she said, offering a small smile. "nothing major."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push her. "well, if you need to talk about it, i'm here," he said, his voice sincere. "you know that, right?"

y/n nodded. "i know."

they sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable but comfortable, until the door to the dorm opened. minho stepped inside, his eyes immediately flicking over to the two of them on the couch.

"hey," minho greeted, his voice neutral as he walked into the kitchen. his eyes lingered on y/n and jisung for a split second, as if checking for any signs of something more, but he said nothing.

"hey, minho," jisung replied easily, though there was a hint of wariness in his voice.

y/n watched the interaction, noting how minho’s presence immediately shifted the atmosphere. she knew he wasn’t exactly thrilled about their growing connection, but she couldn't deny that it felt a little stifling sometimes.

“are you two planning on doing anything productive tonight, or is it just popcorn and movies?” minho asked, his back to them as he rummaged through the fridge.

“we’re watching a movie, minho,” y/n said, trying to lighten the mood. “no big plans, just relaxing.”

minho paused, his shoulders tense for a brief moment, but he didn’t turn around. “fine,” he said curtly, “just don’t stay up too late. you’ve got classes tomorrow.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “i know, i know. i’ll be fine.”

jisung, sensing the growing tension, stood up. “alright, enough of this. i’m making us some ramyeon,” he announced, grabbing his jacket off the floor, tossing it onto the couch. “anyone want some?”

“don’t you dare burn it like last time,” minho called over his shoulder.

jisung laughed, a little more nervously than usual. “i’ll try not to, hyung. no promises though.”

as jisung went to the kitchen, y/n turned to minho, her expression softening. “minho… you don’t have to be so protective.”

minho sighed, leaning against the counter. “it’s my job to look out for you, y/n. you know that.”

“i know,” she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. “but i’m not a kid anymore. i can take care of myself.”

“i know that too,” minho replied, his voice softening. “i just… i want to make sure you’re not getting hurt. that’s all.”

y/n smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “i get it. but i can make my own decisions, minho. just trust me.”

minho didn’t respond, and the silence between them hung heavy. but just as it felt like the conversation would take a turn, jisung returned with the ramyeon, flashing a grin. “food’s ready. no drama while we’re eating, okay?”

y/n laughed lightly, the tension in the room dissipating for a moment. “thanks, jisung.”

“of course,” he said, handing her a bowl before settling next to her on the couch again. “so, what are we watching?”

minho, though still hovering in the background, glanced between the two of them for a moment longer before sighing. he finally relented, sitting down on the armchair nearby. “let’s just watch something and eat, okay?”

as the movie began, jisung leaned in closer to y/n, his arm casually brushing against hers. she glanced up at him, a slight smile forming on her lips. but just as she opened her mouth to say something, minho cleared his throat loudly.

jisung pulled back immediately, a sheepish grin on his face. “sorry, hyung,” he muttered.

y/n chuckled under her breath, leaning her head back against the couch. despite the tension, despite the protective older brother hovering around them, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of warmth whenever jisung was around.

a few days later, minho found himself catching jisung outside the dorm as he was leaving. “we need to talk,” minho said, his tone serious but measured.

jisung nodded, already knowing where this was headed. “about y/n?”

“about y/n,” minho confirmed. “if you want to keep seeing her, you need to be clear about your intentions.”

jisung swallowed, his usual cocky demeanor slipping for a moment. “i’m not going to mess this up, minho. i care about her.”

minho’s eyes narrowed. “she’s my sister, jisung. don’t make me regret giving you a chance.”

“i won’t,” jisung said firmly, his voice steady. “i’ll do right by her. i promise.”

minho studied him for a moment, his gaze unreadable. “i’m holding you to that.”

jisung nodded, then let out a slow breath. “don’t worry. i’m not going anywhere.”

minho finally gave a curt nod and walked away, but not without casting one last wary glance back at jisung.

you never expected to be this familiar with your dealer.

at first, it was just a business arrangement—a text when you needed something, a quick exchange, and then you’d both go on with your lives. han jisung was well-known on campus for two things: having the best weed and being absolutely insufferable. his reputation preceded him. everyone said he was funny, maybe a little too chatty, but reliable. which was all that mattered.

your first deal was simple. a friend had given you his number with nothing but, “jisung’s got the best. just text him.” so, you did.

you: hey. chris gave me your number. jisung: either you’re looking for an existential crisis or some quality bud. which one is it? you: second one. jisung: nice. meet me outside the library in 10.

that was the start of it. nothing special. just a clean transaction. except jisung had a way of making even the most basic interaction feel like an event. “first-time customer discount,” he had said, grinning as he passed you a carefully packed bag. “because i’m generous.” you rolled your eyes but took the deal. and that should’ve been it.

except it wasn’t.

now, somehow, he texts you first.

jisung: yo. got some new stuff. fresh, just for you. discount included, 'cause i'm generous like that. you: are you seriously running a customer loyalty program? jisung: obviously. you’re a vip now.

what started as casual transactions turned into late-night conversations on his beat-up couch, the smell of weed and ramen mixing in the air as he ranted about music and you ranted about life. at first, he was just the guy you went to when you needed to take the edge off. but now? now, he’s showing up at your apartment with food. now, he’s making sure you get home safe from parties. now, he’s your favorite part of the week.

and that’s when you realize: you might be getting addicted. and not to the weed.

it hits you in the middle of a tuesday night when jisung shows up at your door, a plastic bag in one hand and an unlit joint between his lips.

“you look like you need this,” he says by way of greeting, wiggling the bag.

you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed. “what gave it away?”

“the fact that you texted me three times in the past hour.”

you scoff. “i was just asking questions.”

he steps inside without invitation, already making himself at home as he kicks off his sneakers. “questions like ‘are you awake?’ ‘where are you?’ ‘why do you take so long to reply?’”

“you do take forever to reply.”

jisung plops onto your couch, making himself comfortable. “i was rolling.”

you snort, locking the door behind him. “rolling what?”

“guess.”

you shake your head and drop onto the couch next to him. he pulls out a container of takeout, handing it to you like it’s second nature.

“you brought food?”

“yeah. thought you might need something to soak up the smoke,” he says, finally lighting the joint. he takes a slow drag, then holds it out to you. “want?”

you take it, but don’t smoke just yet. instead, you watch him exhale, the soft glow of the cherry illuminating his face in the dim light of your living room. it’s strangely intimate. more than it should be.

“jisung.”

he turns his head to you, lazily raising a brow. “yeah?”

you hesitate, then take a hit. the smoke burns in your lungs before you release it. “never mind.”

he watches you for a second longer, then smirks. “you sure?”

no. not at all.

the air between you shifts after that night.

jisung still shows up unannounced, still texts you about new strains like he’s running a startup, still steals your leftovers when you’re too high to fight him for them. but now, there’s something else. a tension neither of you fully acknowledge but both of you feel.

it’s in the way he lingers when he hands you a joint, fingers brushing yours for a second too long. in the way his gaze drops to your lips when you inhale, watching the way they part, the way your chest rises and falls. it’s in the way he sits just a little closer, his knee knocking into yours like it’s an accident.

one night, you’re both sprawled on his couch, passing a blunt back and forth as some old-school hip-hop plays in the background. you’re not even sure whose playlist is on anymore.

jisung stretches, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. he catches you looking and grins. “like what you see?”

you scoff, taking the blunt from his fingers. “in your dreams.”

his grin widens. “you are in my dreams.”

your heart stumbles. he says it so casually, like it’s not a big deal. like he’s not just admitted something that makes your stomach twist into knots.

you cover it up with a laugh, exhaling smoke in his direction. “sounds like a personal problem.”

jisung doesn’t respond immediately. instead, he watches you, head tilted like he’s deciding something.

then, suddenly, he leans in.

your breath catches. he’s close—closer than he’s ever been. his eyes flicker to your lips, and for a second, you think he’s actually going to do it.

then, at the last moment, he pulls back with a smirk. “you blinked first.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “you’re an idiot.”

“and yet,” he says, plucking the blunt from your fingers, “you keep me around.”

you don’t have an answer for that. or maybe, you do, but you’re not ready to say it out loud.

without warning, he reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a small packet.

“here,” he says, tossing it into your lap.

you pick it up, eyebrows furrowing as you inspect the package. mango-infused rolling papers.

your lips part in surprise. “what—”

“figured you’d like them,” he interrupts, lighting another joint of his own. “said you liked the smell of mangos once.”

you don’t remember saying that. but he does.

something warm blooms in your chest. you trace the edge of the package with your thumb, an unfamiliar feeling creeping in beneath the usual haze of smoke.

jisung exhales, watching you closely. “you gonna roll one, or just stare at it?”

you shake your head, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “shut up, han.”

he grins. “make me.”

and just like that, the tension coils tighter.

the next few times jisung comes over, the tension keeps building, but it’s always there in the back of your mind: am i imagining this?

at first, it’s subtle. a lingering touch as he passes you a joint. his gaze a little too long when you laugh at something he said. but you’re probably just reading too much into it. after all, he’s han jisung. the guy who makes a joke out of everything, who treats every moment like it’s a bit for his own personal comedy show.

so, when he texts you one evening, “yo, got something new for you tonight. think you’ll like it,” your heart doesn’t skip a beat. it doesn’t, really. except maybe it does.

he shows up late, as usual, with his usual lazy grin and a bag that smells like something distinctly new. but instead of the quick exchange you’ve grown used to, he lingers a little longer at your door this time, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

you clear your throat, feeling heat creep up your neck. “you’re staring.”

“i’m not staring,” he says, but his voice is low, an edge to it you haven’t quite heard before. “just thinking.”

“about what?”

he shrugs but there’s something unspoken between you, something that hangs thick in the air. something you can’t quite place.

“do you ever wonder,” he starts, his fingers brushing yours as he hands you the joint, “if we’re more than what we pretend to be?”

you frown, heart stuttering in your chest. “what do you mean?”

jisung just gives you that smirk. “you tell me.”

you swallow hard, trying to ignore the feeling curling in your stomach. you’re not sure if he’s joking or being serious, and honestly, you don’t want to know. because the thought that he might actually mean something makes you feel something that’s far too complicated to unpack right now.

instead, you change the subject. “you’re an idiot,” you say, taking the joint from him.

he chuckles, but this time it doesn’t feel like the easy, playful laughter you’re used to. there’s something else there. something that makes you doubt yourself even more.

the next night, you're sitting on your couch, the glow of the tv flickering softly, when jisung knocks on the door again. your stomach tightens before you can stop it, the familiar feeling of his presence throwing you off balance.

he steps inside, holding a bottle of wine and that same lazy grin. “you ever smoked with wine?” he asks, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

you raise an eyebrow. “that’s a thing?”

“anything’s a thing if you’re willing to try it,” he shrugs, and his eyes are on you—just a little too long.

and just like that, you’re caught in another moment, wondering if you’ve imagined it all.

you keep your focus on the wine, on the rolling papers, on anything other than the way your heart seems to beat just a little too fast every time he looks at you.

but it’s definitely just in your head. right?

when you’re both sitting on the floor, half a bottle of wine gone, rolling yet another joint, something shifts. your fingers brush as you take the paper from him, and this time, neither of you pull away. it’s not an accident.

jisung’s gaze flickers down to your lips again, and this time, he doesn’t look away. “i think i like this,” he says quietly.

you look up at him, confusion swirling in your chest. “the wine or the company?”

he pauses, his eyes locking onto yours. “both.”

the words linger in the air between you two, heavy and loaded with something you can’t quite name. but you know it’s there, just beneath the surface, waiting.

you laugh, more out of nervousness than anything else. “you’re ridiculous.”

but inside, your heart’s pounding, and the only thing you can think of is the question you’ve been too afraid to ask: is he flirting with me? or am i just imagining it?

the wine’s long gone, and so is the joint you’ve been passing between you two, the air thick with smoke and something else you can’t place. jisung’s on his third one, and you’re starting to feel the warmth spreading through your limbs. but in this moment, something’s different.

for the first time in a while, the haze doesn’t make you forget everything—it sharpens things. your thoughts, your awareness. your feelings.

you’re both sitting a little closer than usual, and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes flicker over your face, the way his lips quirk into that teasing grin that’s beginning to feel a little less playful, a little more… personal.

he catches you looking, and for a moment, the space between you feels too small.

you pull the joint back to your lips, your fingers brushing against his again as you do. this time, it’s impossible to pretend it’s an accident.

jisung leans back into the couch, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. “you ever realize how much clearer everything feels when you’re high?” he asks, looking over at you.

you blink at him, feeling strangely attuned to his presence in the dim light. “clearer?” you repeat, your words coming out a little slower than you intend.

he shrugs, staring up at the ceiling. “yeah. it’s like all the noise in my head clears out, and i can actually think about stuff. like, really think about stuff.” his gaze flickers to you, just briefly. “i guess when you’re high, the sober thoughts don’t seem so hidden anymore.”

you blink again, his words cutting through your own haze. high words and actions are sober thoughts, you realize, the thought hitting you with a strange clarity you hadn’t anticipated.

it’s almost like the high is making the things you both never say, the things you both dance around, impossible to ignore anymore. maybe that’s why the air feels charged, maybe that’s why every time your eyes meet, there’s that pull, like something is about to snap.

“you ever think about stuff, jisung?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended. you feel almost nervous now, the blunt between your fingers nothing but a prop for the words you can’t seem to stop from spilling out. “i mean… really think about it.”

he turns his head slowly, catching your gaze with a serious look, his voice dropping low. “yeah,” he says softly. “i think about you.”

the words are simple, but they hit harder than they should. you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. the room feels too warm now, your mind scrambling to process what he’s said. it’s one thing to joke around, but this—this feels different.

you laugh, but it comes out breathless, more to cover the sudden weight of his words than anything else. “you’re such a jerk.”

he smiles, but there’s no teasing in it now. “you think i’m joking?”

the air between you is thick with tension, thick with something that’s become impossible to ignore. the weight of your unspoken thoughts hangs in the air like smoke, swirling and curling around you, suffocating you.

“i don’t know,” you reply honestly, feeling the truth of your own words more than you want to. “i think i might be imagining it.”

jisung doesn’t say anything at first. he just watches you, and for a second, you wonder if maybe he’s reconsidering saying what he just did. but then he leans in slightly, his eyes still locked onto yours, his voice barely a whisper. “i don’t think you are.”

your heart skips a beat, and you look away, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting. you wish you could just laugh it off, like you always do with him. but this time, it’s different.

high words and actions are sober thoughts, and right now, you’re both too sober to ignore what’s brewing between you two.

the silence that falls between you both is thick, heavier than any haze that’s filled the room. it’s like the air’s been sucked out, and all that’s left is this palpable tension, the kind that lingers in the space between two people who almost say what they’re really thinking, but don’t quite dare.

jisung shifts on the couch, his body so close to yours now you can feel the warmth radiating off him. it makes the room feel even smaller, more intimate than you’re ready for. you fight the urge to look at him, your eyes glued to the floor, trying to distract yourself with anything that isn’t the way he’s breathing just a little deeper than usual.

“so,” you say, your voice a little higher than it should be, a weak attempt at breaking the silence, “you were saying something about sober thoughts?”

his lips curl into that familiar, cocky grin, the one that usually makes your heart race. but tonight, it’s different. tonight, it feels like he’s just about ready to say something that’ll change everything.

“yeah,” he mutters, eyes still on you, tracing the curve of your cheek with his gaze. “i was thinking… maybe we’re both just too good at pretending we don’t know what’s going on here.”

you’re not sure if it’s the wine, the weed, or maybe just the way his words sink deep into your chest, but you finally meet his gaze. the air crackles between you as his eyes flicker to your lips, then back up to your eyes, an almost imperceptible shift in his posture. your heart skips, and you can’t decide if it’s the anxiety or the adrenaline that’s making your palms sweat.

“pretending?” you repeat, the word hanging in the air like smoke. you know exactly what he’s talking about. the tension—it’s been there for weeks now, building and building with every touch, every glance. but hearing him say it out loud somehow makes it all too real.

“yeah,” jisung says quietly, his voice almost like a confession, “pretending like we don’t know we’re both walking around this whole time pretending we don’t want to… do something about it.”

your pulse quickens, and you can feel the heat rising to your face. you want to respond, but your mind’s a tangled mess of thoughts that don’t seem to make sense. you’re high, but you’ve never felt so aware of everything happening around you—of every little shift in his expression, every tiny change in the way he’s looking at you.

and then, without thinking, without even realizing you’re doing it, you close the space between you. one hand moves to his chest—tentative, unsure—and the other touches his shoulder. your breath hitches in your throat as his gaze drops to your lips again, and just like that, the world seems to slow down.

you’re about to kiss him.

no, you tell yourself, but your body doesn’t listen. you can’t stop it. you don’t want to stop it.

jisung’s breath comes a little faster now, his eyes searching yours, like he’s looking for some kind of permission, some kind of answer to the question neither of you has asked out loud. he leans in just a fraction more, and then he stops, waiting for you to make the move.

you can’t breathe. the tension is unbearable, and you know this could change everything. this could be the moment where everything shifts from playful teasing to something much deeper.

but instead of kissing him, you pull back, just enough to catch your breath. “are we really doing this right now?” your voice cracks, betraying the mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside you.

jisung’s lips twitch in the beginning of a smile, and he leans back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “no. we’re just talking about it.”

you blink in confusion. “talking about it?”

“yeah,” he says, his grin widening. “you’re not ready for that, huh?”

your chest tightens, heart racing. you stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s teasing or serious. but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s not the usual cocky, playful look. it’s something deeper. something that makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall but unsure if you should.

“why are you doing this, jisung?” you ask, the question escaping before you can stop it. you need to understand—because you don’t know what’s real anymore, and what’s just the high talking.

he doesn’t answer immediately. instead, he leans forward again, his voice low. “maybe i’m doing this because i can’t stop thinking about you.”

the words hit harder than you expect, a weight settling deep in your chest.

the room is silent again. the weight of the unspoken words hangs in the air, heavy and pregnant with possibility.

and suddenly, it feels like the only thing you can do is lean in again.

this time, you don’t stop.

you kiss him.

it’s tentative at first, a slow, almost unsure press of lips. but then, just like the way the tension between you two has been building for weeks, the kiss deepens. it’s more than just an answer—it’s the release of everything you’ve both been holding back. his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if trying to close the gap that’s been lingering between you both for far too long.

the warmth of his lips sends a jolt through your body, your heart pounding in your chest. you taste the remnants of the wine on his breath, the faint sweetness mingling with the earthy flavor of the weed. the combination is dizzying, a mix of flavors and sensations that blur everything around you.

and it’s all so natural. it feels right.

you pull away for a second, breathless, to catch your bearings. you’re not sure how to process this, how to make sense of the rush of emotions flooding your chest. but jisung doesn’t give you time to think.

his lips are on yours again, more urgent this time, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you even closer. you let him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. the way he holds you, the way he kisses you—it’s like he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have.

and when he pulls away again, there’s a fire in his eyes, one you haven’t seen before, not like this. his breathing is shallow, and his fingers are grazing the side of your face like he’s still processing the fact that this is real.

“don’t make me regret this,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with desire. there’s a vulnerability in his tone that catches you off guard, a rawness you hadn’t expected from him.

you look up at him, heart in your throat. “i don’t want to regret this either.”

and for a second, it’s like the world stops moving. the weight of everything—of the flirting, the late-night conversations, the stolen moments—crashes down on you. this is the moment where everything changes. where you stop pretending. where you stop running from it.

jisung leans in one more time, and this time, there’s no hesitation. no second thoughts. just the feeling of his lips pressing against yours again, urgent and hungry. it’s a kiss that tells you everything you need to know. that tells you he’s not just playing around anymore.

he’s in this.

and maybe, just maybe, you are too.

the kiss lasts longer this time, slow and deep, the kind that makes everything else fade into the background. the buzzing from the weed, the lingering taste of the wine, the tension that’s been building for weeks—all of it disappears in the space between you two, until there’s nothing left but him and you, tangled together in the moment.

when you finally pull away, both of you gasping for air, you don’t know what comes next. but you know one thing for sure.

this is only the beginning.

the moment his lips meet yours again, it’s not slow anymore. it’s fast, hungry, desperate, as if you’ve both been waiting for this moment for too long and now that it’s here, neither of you can hold back.

his hands are on you—everywhere. one hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, while the other slips around your waist, pressing your body into his. the heat between you intensifies with each passing second, the softest moan escaping you when his lips find that sweet spot on your neck.

jisung doesn’t let you catch your breath. his lips are insistent against yours, each kiss deeper than the last, until you’re both breathless, the room spinning around you. his tongue brushes against your lips, asking for permission, and you give it, parting your lips for him. the kiss turns hotter, the world shrinking until there’s only him and the feel of his hands roaming your body.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, trying to deepen the kiss as much as you can. it’s messy and frantic, but neither of you seem to care. his lips move with purpose, taking the kiss from soft and slow to urgent and fierce. you feel the heat rise in your chest, your body pressed so tightly against his that you can feel every inch of him, every muscle tensing as he pulls you impossibly closer.

jisung groans into your mouth, fingers tightening in your hair as he pulls you onto his lap without hesitation. your knees settle on either side of his hips, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. the joint—forgotten—smolders in the ashtray beside you, the scent of weed and roses lingering in the thick air between you.

his hands roam, slow and teasing, fingertips grazing the bare skin beneath your hoodie. you shiver, a breathy sigh slipping past your lips when he presses his palms flat against your back, pulling you closer. his lips move against yours, unhurried but deliberate, as if savoring every second.

“you’re high,” you murmur against his mouth, though you don’t pull away.

jisung exhales a laugh, his breath warm against your lips. “and?”

“high words and actions are sober thoughts,” you remind him, voice barely above a whisper.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide, dark and heavy with something you can’t name. his thumb brushes over your cheek, then lower, tracing the curve of your lips.

“exactly.”

your breath catches.

the weight of his words settles between you, thick and undeniable. he’s not hiding behind the haze of smoke. not playing it off like a joke. he means it.

and you’re fucked.

because you believe him.

because you want this—sober, high, or anything in between.

his hands slide down your back, settling at your waist as he leans in again, this time slower, deeper, letting the moment stretch, letting the tension snap and coil until all that’s left is you, him, and the quiet hum of something inevitable.

your fingers tangle in his hoodie, gripping tight as you meet him halfway, lips parting, bodies pressing closer, heat pooling between you like a slow burn waiting to ignite.

and this time, neither of you stop.

© charlieg1rl ⋅

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winter always had a way of digging into old wounds, bringing memories to the surface like snowflakes caught on bare skin. it wasn’t just the cold; it was the quiet, the stillness.

han jisung stood at the edge of the frozen river, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. his breath puffed out in soft clouds, mingling with the frosty air as he stared at the water, now trapped beneath a thick layer of ice. he remembered how you’d both loved coming here—how winter had always been your favorite season.

but now, it felt like winter had betrayed him.

his phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it, choosing instead to tilt his head back and let the snow fall on his face. each flake was a whisper of something past, of laughter, of your voice, of the warmth you’d shared even in the coldest weather.

“why do i keep doing this?” he muttered to himself.

it had been months since you left, but no amount of time seemed to dull the ache. he had tried everything—burying himself in work, going out with friends, writing songs he never intended to release. but every time winter rolled around, it was like a switch flipped. suddenly, everything reminded him of you.

he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the pictures he couldn’t bring himself to delete. there you were, bundled up in a scarf he’d given you, your nose red from the cold as you grinned at him through the camera.

“let’s make snow angels!” you’d said, your voice as light as the snow itself.

and he had, because he could never say no to you.

he closed his eyes, gripping the phone tightly. the snow crunched behind him, and for a moment, his heart leapt, foolishly hoping it was you. but when he turned around, it was just a jogger passing by, their footsteps fading into the distance.

“get it together, jisung,” he whispered, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

the thing about winter, he thought, was that it forced you to slow down. it left you alone with your thoughts, no distractions, no excuses. he had spent weeks telling himself that he was fine, that he was moving on, but the truth was written in the frost that clung to his eyelashes.

he wasn’t over you.

he kicked at the snow, frustration bubbling to the surface. “why can’t i just let you go?”

the question hung in the air, unanswered. the wind picked up, carrying it away as if it, too, was tired of his self-pity. he exhaled sharply, turning his back to the river. maybe it was time to stop coming here.

as he walked away, the snow began to fall harder, blanketing the world in white. each step felt heavier than the last, but with every breath of cold air, he felt a little clearer, a little lighter.

“winter falls,” he murmured to himself, the lyrics of a song he’d been working on echoing in his mind. “the snow falls purer than anything (떨어진다 눈이 그 어떤 것보다 깨끗하게).”

the song wasn’t finished yet, but he knew how it would end. it wouldn’t be about erasing you completely. it would be about accepting that some memories stay with you, even when you wish they wouldn’t.

because letting go wasn’t about forgetting. it was about making peace with what once was.

and as the snow fell around him, he decided he was ready to try.

the snow was falling harder now, a heavy, constant rhythm that matched jisung’s scattered thoughts. he found himself wandering aimlessly through the park, the world muted under its wintry blanket. memories of you clung to him like the frost on his coat, unshakable despite his best efforts.

he used to love this park in the winter, but now, every step felt like walking through a museum of your shared moments. that bench over there? that’s where you’d sat together, sharing a thermos of hot chocolate as you teased him about his uneven snowman. that lamppost? it was under that golden glow where you’d pulled him into a sudden snowball fight, laughing so brightly that strangers stopped to smile.

jisung’s chest tightened as he walked past the empty swing set. you’d loved swings, always begging him to push you higher, your laughter ringing out like a melody that refused to leave his mind.

he stopped in front of the swings, his breath catching. “stop it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “it’s over. it’s done.”

but the ghost of your laughter wouldn’t leave him alone.

it was hours before jisung found himself back at his apartment. the air inside was warm, a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to have settled in his bones. he kicked off his boots, letting them clatter loudly to the floor, and collapsed onto the couch.

his guitar sat propped against the wall, untouched for weeks. songwriting used to be his escape, a way to process every high and low of his life. but now, every time he picked up the guitar, the only thing that came out was you.

with a sigh, he grabbed the guitar and settled it in his lap. his fingers hovered over the strings, hesitant.

“falls,” he sang softly, the words falling from his lips like the snow outside. “i'll try to erase everything about you that still remains with me (아직 내게 남은 네 모든 걸 다 지워볼게).”

the melody was slow and mournful, a reflection of the ache in his chest. he closed his eyes, letting the emotions take over, his fingers moving instinctively over the strings.

“i loved you, loved you, loved you, as you did (너도 그랬듯 ) loved you, loved you, loved you,” he continued, his voice trembling. “again it (다시) falls, the snow falls. we fall apart (떨어진다 눈이 떨어진다 우린).”

the song was raw, unpolished, but it felt real. he played until his fingers ached, the chords filling the empty space around him.

when he finally stopped, the room was silent again. he set the guitar down, staring at the snow piling up on the windowsill.

it was time to let go. not just of you, but of the person he’d been when he was with you. he needed to stop searching for closure in the past and start finding it within himself.

he reached for his phone and opened your contact, his thumb hovering over the “delete” button. it wasn’t that he wanted to erase you completely—he knew that was impossible. but holding onto your number felt like clinging to a version of himself that no longer existed.

with a deep breath, he pressed the button.

the weight in his chest didn’t vanish, but it lightened, just a little. he leaned back against the couch, his eyes drifting shut as the snow continued to fall outside.

tomorrow, he thought, he would keep moving forward.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐬𝐨 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲/𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐲/𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬…🥁 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍 !! 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭…

the crowd roared as the auditorium lights dimmed, leaving a single spotlight to bathe the stage in a soft, anticipatory glow. it was one of the practice performances before the official announcement of the caa’s annual talent showcase though neither ryujin nor hyerin had any idea the stakes would soon escalate. for them, this was just another chance to bring their all to the stage.

dressed in complimentary outfits—hyerin in a colorful top and a black leather skirt with metallic accents that shimmered under the lights and ryujin in an equally striking white corset top and leather shorts—they exuded confidence as they took their places.

the first notes of "midas touch" echoed through the room, a hypnotic blend of synths and bass drops. the audience, a mix of students and faculty, quieted instantly, their attention glued to the two performers.

hyerin stepped forward, her voice cutting through the air with a sultry richness that sent chills down everyone’s spines. she commanded the stage effortlessly, her movements fluid and graceful as she transitioned between singing and sharp, precise steps. her years of dance training were on full display—every turn, every pop of her body perfectly aligned with the beat.

the emotions in her voice matched the lyrics of "midas touch" perfectly: longing, tension, and a hint of vulnerability. the crowd couldn’t take their eyes off her as she belted the first chorus, her voice soaring with a raw power that filled the room.

ryujin’s energy was magnetic as she stepped in for her rap verse. her sharp, staccato delivery hit like lightning, each word dripping with attitude and charisma. her movements were bold and precise, with just the right amount of swag to contrast hyerin’s elegance.

the two of them locked eyes during the transition into the pre-chorus, seamlessly syncing their moves in a jaw-dropping duet. their chemistry was undeniable—a perfect balance of fire and ice, ryujin’s fiery intensity playing off hyerin’s cool, composed aura.

when the bridge hit, the lights flashed in rhythm with the pulsating beat, illuminating the duo in alternating colors. the audience erupted in cheers as hyerin and ryujin broke into the choreography’s signature move: a synchronized spin that ended in a dramatic pose, their expressions fierce and unrelenting.

the dance break was explosive. hyerin’s movements were graceful yet powerful, her years of technical training evident in every leap and twist. ryujin matched her with raw, unfiltered energy, adding her own flair to the routine with sharp isolations and floorwork that brought an extra edge to their performance.

as the final chorus played, their voices harmonized beautifully, creating a hauntingly emotional sound that resonated with the audience. they moved across the stage as one, their steps perfectly in sync, their voices blending like they were born to perform together.

the final note lingered in the air as the two froze in their ending pose—hyerin with her hand stretched toward the crowd and ryujin kneeling with a smirk, their expressions daring anyone to challenge their dominance.

the auditorium erupted into thunderous applause, whistles, and cheers. students were on their feet, clapping and screaming their names, while the faculty exchanged impressed nods.

hyerin and ryujin walked off stage, their adrenaline still pumping.

“that was insane,” hyerin panted, running a hand through her hair.

“you weren’t so bad yourself,” ryujin teased, giving her a playful shove. “you almost missed that turn, though.”

“oh, shut up, miss ‘almost tripped during the spin,’” hyerin shot back, but her grin betrayed her playful tone.

as they reached the backstage lounge, they were greeted by their classmates, including giselle, winter, karina, and ningning, who were clapping and hyping them up.

“you guys killed it!” ningning exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels.

“yeah, but wait until you hear this.” karina leaned in with a mischievous smirk. “did you know this year’s talent showcase has a twist?”

ryujin froze, furrowing her brow. “what twist?”

winter crossed her arms, clearly amused.

“only one member from each group can participate. and once the final four are picked, it becomes a duo competition.” giselle explained.

hyerin blinked, her mouth opening slightly in shock. “what?!”

ningning giggled. “yep. and they’re announcing it officially tomorrow.”

ryujin groaned, rubbing her temples. “great. guess we’ll have to figure out who’s taking the stage for itzy. as if that won’t be a battle in itself.”

hyerin’s mind raced, her excitement mingling with dread. the showcase was always competitive, but this year’s twist added a whole new layer of tension.

“looks like things are about to get… interesting,” she murmured, a flicker of determination sparking in her eyes.

-----

the itzy dorm was alive with chatter as the five members gathered in their living room, snacks sprawled across the coffee table and laptops open with performance clips playing on repeat. they had spent the last hour analyzing the rules for the talent showcase, but the atmosphere was tense as the reality of only sending one member to represent them sank in.

“okay,” ryujin started, leaning back against the couch. “let’s just cut to the chase. we all know the answer.”

“do we?” yuna piped up from the floor, hugging a pillow. “because i’ve been running through scenarios, and i’m not sure how we decide this.”

“i mean,” yeji said calmly, though her tone was firm, “we need someone who’s the most well-rounded. someone who can handle both singing and dancing equally well without sacrificing one for the other.”

all eyes slowly turned to hyerin, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, munching on a piece of dried mango. she froze mid-bite, looking up at the group like a deer caught in headlights.

“wait… me?” she asked, her voice muffled by the snack.

“of course, you,” chaeryeong said, rolling her eyes affectionately. “you’re the best fit. your breath control is insane because of all your dance training, and your vocals have only gotten stronger.”

“not to mention,” ryujin added with a smirk, “you’re the most competitive. if anyone can hold their own against whoever the other groups send, it’s you.”

“but…” hyerin hesitated, looking between her members. “what if i screw it up? this isn’t just about me—it’s about all of us.”

yeji reached over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “that’s exactly why it has to be you. we trust you, hyerin. you’ve got this.”

hyerin swallowed hard, the weight of the decision settling in her chest. but as she looked around at her members, all of whom wore expressions of unwavering confidence, she felt a surge of determination.

“alright,” she finally said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “let’s win this thing.”

meanwhile, at the stray kids dorm, the atmosphere was equally charged. the eight boys had gathered in their living room, jisung and changbin sprawled on the floor while hyunjin was draped over the armrest of the couch. seungmin sat stiffly in an armchair, already sensing where this conversation was headed, but his mind was still on his previous conversation with hyerin and findings from last night.

“okay, we all saw the rules,” bang chan said, his voice steady but his expression serious. “only one member can represent us. we need to make the smartest choice.”

“well, it’s obvious,” felix said, leaning against the wall. “if itzy sends hyerin, we need someone who can match her.”

“match her?” jisung scoffed, shaking his head. “you mean beat her. have you heard her vocals? she’s a beast. her stage presence alone—”

“we get it, jisung,” hyunjin interrupted, waving him off. “she’s good. but we’re better.”

“not all of us are better,” changbin muttered, earning a light shove from felix.

“we need someone who can go head-to-head with her,” chan said, looking around the room. his gaze settled on seungmin, who had been suspiciously quiet the entire time.

“what?” seungmin finally asked, narrowing his eyes at the leader.

“you’re the obvious choice,” chan said simply.

“hyunjin’s a great performer,” seungmin countered. “changbin’s rap could—”

“nope,” changbin cut him off. “i’m not going up there to get steamrolled by hyerin. sorry, but her vocals are insane.”

hyunjin shrugged. “honestly, i think we all know she’s neck and neck with you, seungmin. no one else in the group—or on campus—can match her vocally like you can.”

“not to mention,” felix chimed in, “your stage presence is so polished. if she’s bringing her dance background, you’ll need that level of poise to balance it out.”

seungmin sighed, leaning back in his chair. “you’re all way too confident about this.”

“because we’ve seen you,” jisung said, a rare moment of seriousness softening his tone. “we know what you’re capable of.”

“and the campus does, too,” chan added. “if it’s hyerin versus you, it’s going to be the battle everyone’s talking about. and i’m betting on you to win.”

seungmin ran a hand through his hair, his lips pressing into a thin line. he didn’t love the idea of being singled out like this, but he couldn’t deny that the challenge intrigued him.

“fine,” he said finally, his voice steady. “but don’t come crying to me if i lose.”

the room erupted into cheers and playful shoves, but chan’s voice cut through the noise.

“you’re not going to lose, seungmin,” he said firmly. “we believe in you.”

-----

word of the itzy and stray kids picks spread like wildfire across the entertainment academy campus.

“did you hear? itzy picked hyerin. of course, they did. who else?”

“yeah, but stray kids picked seungmin. this is going to be insane. they’re both insane vocalists.”

“do you think they’ll make it to the final four? imagine them getting paired up as a duo!”

“i don’t know, man. they’re like sworn enemies or something. i heard they can’t stand each other.”

“which makes it even better! the drama is going to be wild.”

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