#yoiks

You walk into work that morning with an extra spring in your step.

In hand you have a plastic bag of steaming hot takeout food. You had just stopped to pick it up on your way over. The owner of the restaurant sees you so often these days that he has your name and your order memorized. You aren’t quite sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing (but you’re leaning toward the second).

The other stylists greet you warmly when you enter the styling room. One of your friends eyes the bag in your hand with a knowing look. “Who’s that for, Y/N?” they ask, the teasing clear in their voice.

“I bet I can guess,” another chimes in, earning some giggles and amused smiles from the others.

“You guys are the worst,” you complain as you place the bag down on your station. You feel a blush rising up on your cheeks and a quick glance in the mirror proves you’re right. Your face is flushed bright red.

You groan in annoyance. Ever since they discovered your crush on a certain tall member of Seventeen, the teasing has been nearly incessant. But thankfully the topic of conversation soon shifts away from you and toward today’s concept. The boys are filming their reality show this afternoon and the PD wants natural looks for everyone.

You feel a twinge of disappointment. That means less time in the chair today. And less time to see Mingyu.

As you break from the team huddle, your friend nudges you in the side and says, “Don’t look so down, Y/N, you’ll still get to see him.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” you reply, feigning ignorance.

They grin at your denial and plant a kiss on your cheek. “Ah, Y/N, you’re so cute,” they say with fondness shining in their eyes. “I know we tease you about him, but you have to know that we’re rooting for you. I know how hard it was for you to settle in here at first. But look at you now! Our Y/N has a crush. It makes me happy to see.”

Your friend’s words make you think back to when you first started your job as a professional stylist.

You had felt so out of your league amongst all the other stylists, who seemed so much more experienced and talented than yourself. It was overwhelming and anxiety-inducing and for the longest time you mostly kept to yourself, just trying to make it through and convince yourself that you belonged.

Thankfully, you had a supportive team of coworkers that encouraged you out of your shell and made you feel welcome amongst them. And the boys themselves were always so kind to you and just as welcoming.

But it didn’t start out that way. Looking back, you’re sure that you would have quit after your first day if it wasn’t for one boy in particular.

You remember it with startling clarity, that day. The boys were slowly drifting in for hair and makeup from their post-rehearsal showers, sometimes alone, others in clusters. You waited by your chair, watching nervously as they entered, nearly shaking at the thought of having to do hair for an idol.

But then your worry turned into a different kind as you watched the boys one by one sit themselves down in front of their usual stylists, greeting them brightly and striking up conversation like old friends.

It was your worst nightmare. Nobody was coming to your chair.

You wanted to disappear into the woodwork with how embarrassed you were. You were invisible, insignificant, and completely alone in that room.

You turned away from everyone to hide the tears forming in your eyes.

What am I doing here? you thought. I don’t belong here. I’m not good enough. I should just quit right now and save everyone the trouble—

“Hi.”

A voice interrupted your thoughts, close by and clearly directed at you. Your head snapped up in surprise and you were stunned to find a boy sitting himself down in your chair.

He smiled at you in the mirror, the look of it striking you as shy but sweet and friendly. “Nice to meet you. I’m Mingyu.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, because wow was he cute. Like, too cute.

“Are you new?” he asked as he made himself comfortable in your chair.

You blinked, snapping back to your senses. You felt a furious blush coming on as you realized you were just standing there, openly staring at him like a complete idiot.

And by the smile on his face, he knew it, too.

I could just die right now and it’d be a thousand times less painful, you thought, mortified.

You cleared your throat and pretended to dig out some of your tools to hide your blush. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you stammered in reply. “It’s my first day.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’re going to do a great job,” you heard him say and your heart did a little flip. Why was this boy, this stranger, being so kind to you? You didn’t understand it.

You looked up and met his eyes in the mirror and he gave you an encouraging smile. You flushed and looked away, but a small, shy smile of your own had found its way onto your lips.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. And you really meant it.

After that, you found it easier to relax. Although it was still nerve-wracking doing hair for an idol (and a really cute one at that), you found that it wasn’t so difficult to let your training take over.

Mingyu’s hair was damp from his shower, so you set to work combing some styling products into his hair and blowing it dry with the hairdryer.

Although you couldn’t talk over the sound of the dryer, you could feel his eyes on you and sensed that he was waiting for it to turn off so he could continue your conversation.

Sure enough, as soon as it was off and set aside, Mingyu said, “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I didn’t. I’m Y/N,” you told him.

Stop blushing, you idiot! you scolded yourself.

Mingyu nodded. “Y/N,” he repeated, like he was storing it away for later.

The flat iron was already plugged in and hot, so you began to straighten and style his hair. The group was going to film a variety show, so it didn’t need to be too fancy, but you were still determined to do your best on your first day.

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mingyu said then, his eyes bright and curious.

You hesitated, not quite sure if he was genuinely interested or just being polite.

“You . . . really want to know?” you asked.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course. I love meeting new people.”

You felt a twinge of disappointment. Oh. So he wasn’t interested in you—you were just something new and different to him. A curiosity.

But not wanting to be rude, you cleared your throat and told him. About yourself, your family, where you grew up. And how you eventually came to work for Pledis Entertainment.

All the while, Mingyu listened to your every word, nodding along with your story and asking you questions in between.

When that first styling session drew to a close, you decided that maybe you had been wrong. Maybe it was you he was interested in. A warm, happy feeling settled in your chest at his attention. Later you would come to realize how grateful you were to him for that first day, for giving you a chance and making you feel important, feel seen.

When you told him you were finished and he was free to go, Mingyu leaned forward in the chair to inspect his reflection. You waited anxiously for his response, shifting back and forth on your feet.

Then, a grin spread across his face. “Wow! It looks amazing. Ah, thank you so much, Y/N.”

You flushed at his praise. “You’re welcome, Mingyu,” you murmured.

He pivoted the chair so he could look up at you. His expression looked almost nervous as he asked you, “Y/N, will you do my hair tomorrow, too?”

You were completely taken aback. You hadn’t thought you did that amazing of a job. You didn’t know what to say other than, “Y-Yes, of course. I’d love to.”

Another full-wattage grin lit up his face. “Sweet! See you tomorrow, Y/N. Thanks again!”

And as he bounded away from your chair, you were left there staring after him with a stunned expression, wondering to yourself, What just happened?

In a daze, you started to clean up your station and organize your tools. It was the sound of someone across the room saying your name that pulled you out of your daze.

Alarmed, you turned back to see Mingyu, standing across the room beside a cluster of white couches, gesturing at his hair and pointing in your direction. His audience was four other boys, who by their striking good looks, could have only been his fellow members.

“Doesn’t it look good? Y/N did it for me! They’re new and they’re really good!” he proclaimed.

Four heads swiveled in your direction. You let out a squeak and quickly turned back around to hide your face, which was burning hot.

“Looks like you have a fan club,” a voice to your left said. You looked over to find the stylist from the station beside yours smiling over at you. Their expression was amused and voice teasing.

This, of course, was your friend.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” you murmured.

The stylist laughed. “Don’t be afraid—they’re harmless. They’re like a pack of puppies.” Then, they quirked a brow. “But, it does seem like you’ve caught one’s attention in particular.”

“What?” you squeaked. “Who?”

Now, they waggled their brow at you. “The tall one,” they said, dragging out the syllables in a distinctly suggestive manner. “The tan, cute one. Kim Mingyu.”

You sputtered. “That’s—that’s not—”

They winked at you. “I suppose time will have to tell.”

And time did tell.

The more you got to know him and the more he got to know you, you felt more and more certain that there was something there. At first it was just friendship and good company. You loved having him in your chair everyday and talking to him about work, life, everything. He was a good listener and you felt like you could trust him. Even more than that, you felt like he actually cared about what you had to say. The more you got to know him, the more you felt convinced that that initial impression about his reasons for talking to you on that first day were wrong. He really did want to get to know you. And you were surprised to find that you really wanted to get to know him, too.

Then, slowly, the friendship that you built started to change into something more.

You began to notice the subtle ways Mingyu would find excuses to touch you. Playfully nudging you in the side when he teased you about something or when he rolled your sleeve back up for you when it fell while you were curling his bangs. Once, when you were leaning down in front of him to fix the part in his hair, he reached up to re-tuck a strand of hair that had fallen in your eyes. You swear it wasn’t your imagination when for moment his gaze flicked down to your mouth.

Then came the little gestures. One time he ran to the convenience store to buy cold medicine for you when you were sick but still had to work. Another time he lent you his jacket when you were filming at a location outdoors and had forgotten yours. You insisted that you were fine (it was thirty-seven degrees and truthfully you weren’t), but instead of listening to you, he removed his jacket, draped it around your shoulders, and ran off before you could protest.

You did things for him, too. And not just because you wanted to return the favor, but because you wanted to care for him, too. You knew how rare it was that he got to eat a good, solid meal—whether it was from his own strict diet or the group’s tight schedule. It was how you’d taken to picking up takeout for him.

One day you’d brought some in for yourself and noticed the way he was eyeing it up with a longing expression.

“Gyu, do you want some?” you asked him.

He hesitated. You could tell he wanted to say yes. “I shouldn’t.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

His eyes shied away from yours. His expression was guilty. “Yesterday.”

You glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the afternoon. “Yesterday? When yesterday?” you demanded.

He sunk lower into your chair. “Four,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened. “Kim Mingyu! You have to eat. Here, take his,” you insisted, setting down your comb to unwrap the food you’d brought for yourself for later. You shoved the dish and a set of utensils into his hands. “Eat. Or else I’m going to give you an awful hairstyle.”

Sensing your seriousness, he obediently started to eat. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“Of course, Gyu,” you replied, returning to your work on his hair. “You need to eat. It’s important.”

So, it became your routine. You familiarized yourself with their schedule and figured out the days that he wouldn’t have been able to eat yet and on those days started to pick him up food on your way to work.

And it just so happens that today is one of those days.

After the team huddle and after you manage to break away from your friend’s playful teasing, you set to work prepping your station. One of the other stylists puts on music. The room is bright and cheerful despite the early hour. You find that you’re in a good mood, too. You’re excited to see Mingyu.

It’s not long before the first few boys start filtering in from morning practice. Soonyoung and Chan are among the first to enter, and are evidently feeling loud and rambunctious this morning. Their energy adds to the atmosphere and soon the volume in the room has risen to a lively chatter.

You keep an eye out for Mingyu, but it’s not difficult to spot him when he finally walks into the styling room with Seokmin by his side.

A smile lights your face at his appearance. You lift your arm to wave at him, but falter when you notice his expression. His eyes meet yours and an expression of panic crosses his face. He quickly looks away from you and you stand there, hand half-raised, and watch as he ignores you and instead walks over to the very last chair in the row—as far from yours as possible.

Disappointment sinks into your stomach with a horrible, sickening feeling. You drop your arm and quickly turn away to hide your stricken expression. Why is he avoiding you? Was it something you did?

You soon take notice of the way the other boys seem to be treating you, too. When Seungcheol sits down in the chair to your left, he barely spares a glance in your direction. The same happens with Jeonghan, two chairs down.

Mind reeling, you think back to what you possibly could have done in the past day and a half since you’d last seen them to deserve such a treatment. Everything was fine yesterday morning. You and Mingyu had your normal styling session and you couldn’t recall anything off about it. So what changed?

Steadily growing more and more upset, you consider going to the head stylist and telling them you feel sick and need to go home. You’re about to do just that when a figure sits down in your chair.

You look up in surprise and find Minghao sitting there.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greets you.

As long as you’ve known him, Minghao has never been one to ooze emotion, but you’re flooded with relief when he gives you a small smile. The look of it is almost apologetic.

At least one boy isn’t ignoring me today, you think, and are somehow glad that it’s him.

“Hi, Minghao,” you murmur in reply.

He settles into your chair and you squeeze some styling product into your hands and start to work it through his long hair.

“What’s going on?” you ask him, dropping your voice to a whisper so you won’t be overheard. Not that you have to worry too much, given the current volume of the room. “Why is everyone ignoring me?”

He studies your face with an unreadable expression, but his eyes are sharp and scrutinizing.

“Hao, please,” you practically beg. You’re confused and upset and desperate for an explanation. What could possibly make Mingyu ignore you like this?

“Y/N, can I ask you something?” he says finally.

You nod. “Yes, anything.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

You blink in surprise. Well, that isn’t what you were expecting him to ask, exactly. “No, I’m not. Why?”

He purses his lips. “You’re sure?”

You give him an odd look. What’s with the interrogation on your love life? “I’m positive. Why would I lie about that?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I told them they were overreacting.”

“Minghao, what are you talking about? Overreacting about what?”

“Apparently you forgot one of your equipment bags here when you left yesterday,” he tells you.

You nod. That’s true. You accidentally left it here, but it wasn’t a big deal, so you didn’t come back for it. It was sitting on your station this morning when came in. “I did, but what does that have to do with everyone being mad at me?”

“Well, I guess Mingyu noticed you left it and was going to run it out to you.”

As soon as he says this, you know exactly where his story is going. It’s not difficult to figure out what must have happened.

“And he saw you getting into a car with another guy,” Minghao finishes. “I guess you looked pretty, er, familiar with each other. As he described it.”

You drop your face into your palm and let out a frustrated groan. “Oh my god, he’s my roommate,” you express.

Minghao raises his eyebrows at you. “Your roommate is a guy?”

“Yeah, so what?” you defend, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “He’s probably my closest friend.” Other than Mingyu, you think as your heart twists with sadness.

Minghao still doesn’t look convinced. “And you’re not dating him?”

You level him with an unimpressed look. “You don’t remember when I said I knew a really nice guy that I could set you up with?” you ask very pointedly. Now it’s your turn to raise your eyebrows at him.

Minghao’s expression registers in surprise. “ . . . He’s your roommate?”

You can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of this conversation. “Yes, he’s my roommate.”

He slumps a little in your chair and raises his eyes to the ceiling with a look of complete done-ness. “Mingyu is an idiot.”

You’re glad that you finally understand what happened, but there’s still one thing about the story that you don’t get. “But, Hao, why is everyone mad at me about this?”

Minghao tilts his head at you. “How would you feel if you found out that one of your closest friends saw the person he’s head over heels for with another guy? Probably you’d feel pretty upset for him.”

It finally hits you. Mingyu was jealous. And apparently pretty hurt, too. And when the other boys found out about it, they took his side like the loyal friends they are.

You sputter. “H-head over heels?”

Minghao rolls his eyes at you. “Seriously, Y/N? Isn’t it obvious how much he likes you?”

Of course you had some inkling of his feelings for you. It was part of why you were in such a good mood this morning. Things have been going so well between you lately. You’d finally allowed yourself to hope for something more with him and felt like that’s exactly where things were leading. Honestly, it was almost to the point where you were dying to confess to him.

That is, until his reaction to you this morning brought all your hopes crashing down around you.

Minghao reads your expression and you know he can sense your answer. “And you like him, too,” he says gently.

Finally, you nod. “Yeah,” you quietly admit. “I really do.”

After you finish blow-drying his hair, you ask Minghao, “What should I do now? He’s still mad at me.”

You glance down the row of chairs, but most of the boys have already gone to get their makeup done. Other than Minghao, only Jihoon remains, a few chairs down.

“I could talk to him if you want,” Minghao offers.

For a moment, you consider this. But then you shake your head. “No, I’ll talk to him. I want to explain myself.”

“You’ll have to be quick. We leave for filming soon.”

You nod. “I can probably catch him.”

You quickly finish his hair so he can move on to makeup, but before he leaves you ask, “Hao, can I ask you a question?”

“Mm,” he hums in approval.

“Why didn’t you decide to ignore me like the others?”

“I’m a natural skeptic,” he says with a shrug. “Plus, I know how everyone tends to blow things out of proportion. I know Mingyu and I trust that he was telling the truth, but I also know you and I know how much you like him. It just didn’t sound like you to go behind his back like that. I wanted to hear your side first before I jumped to any conclusions.”

Your heart swells. You can’t put into words how grateful to him you are. You hope that your expression and your words convey it when you say, “Thank you, Hao.”

He smiles. “No problem, Y/N.”

You finish his hair and he confirms that you did a good job, which fills you with pride. You remember that you used to dread having Minghao in your seat, because he’s always so fashionable and put-together. You were terrified of messing up his image with a bad styling job. But it turns out he’s probably the calmest person you know and even if you did mess it up, you doubt he’d bat an eye.

Minghao starts to leave, but then you remember something.

“Oh, hey, Hao,” you stop him. “Do you want this takeout? I was going to give it to Mingyu but—well, you know.”

Minghao scrunches up his face at your offer. “Sorry, Y/N, but I think Mingyu might throttle me if he saw me eating it. He never shuts up about how you bring it just for him.”

“He does?”

He shakes his head. “You two really need to talk things out.”

He leaves before you can respond and waves at you over his shoulder as he goes, a knowing smirk on his face. You scowl after him. “Jerk,” you murmur under your breath, but secretly your heart is filled with fondness for him.

You quickly clean up your station and hurry to catch Mingyu, ignoring the curious glances of the other stylists as you exit the room.

You walk down the hall to the makeup room and peer in the doorway. A couple of boys are still in the chairs, but none of them are Mingyu.

You bite your lip, worry steadily mounting. There’s only one last place he could be. If he isn’t there, then he’s probably already gone down to the vans, which means that you’ve missed your chance to catch him.

You’re just starting to head toward the wardrobe room when a tall figure emerges from a room down the hall.

Your heart does a flip. It’s Mingyu.

He’s alone and clearly distracted by something. He doesn’t seem notice you as he approaches, eyes turned down toward the phone in his hand. But he doesn’t seem to be fully paying attention to that either, if his solemn and pensive expression is any indication.

It’s because of me, you think, your heart wrenching with guilt.

Thinking fast, you duck into the open door of a nearby storage closet and wait, your heart racing. Moments later, Mingyu appears outside the doorway. Before he can walk past, you reach out and tug him by the arm, pulling him into the closet with you.

“What the—!” he yelps in surprise, way too loudly.

You reach up and clamp a hand over his mouth. “Shh, you loudmouth, you’re going to get us caught,” you hiss, shutting the door to give you some privacy. The closet is dark, but there’s still just enough light filtering in beneath the door to be able to make out his face.

Mingyu’s expression shifts into surprise when he sees that it’s you, but then quickly retreats into a more guarded look. It hurts your heart to see him respond to you that way. It feels wrong. Especially since your relationship has always been built on openness and honesty.

“Y/N?” he says when you remove your hand. “What do you want?” The hurt and the accusation is clear in his voice.

“I’m sorry for dragging you in here like this,” you say to him, “but I need to talk to you and I didn’t think you’d listen to me otherwise.”

Mingyu looks down at you, his expression hesitant. He gnaws at his bottom lip, obviously trying to decide if you deserve the chance to explain yourself.

“Please, Gyu,” you add, a quiet pleading in your voice.

Finally he sighs, his shoulders deflating as he gives in to you. “Okay. But I don’t have very long. We’re leaving soon.”

You nod, thankful for even a minute. “I’ll be quick.”

So, you start to explain. “Minghao told me that you saw me being picked up after work yesterday,” you tell him. “By a guy, right?”

Mingyu frowns. “I saw him sit in your chair today,” he grumbles, sounding annoyed by his best friend’s betrayal. “What did he tell you?”

“He said that you thought we were together.”

Mingyu’s eyes shy away from yours and turn down toward his feet. “Well, that’s sure what it looked like to me,” he mutters, confirming that what Minghao told you was true. When his eyes lift back up to yours, they’re filled with hurt. “Why are you doing this to me, Y/N? Just tell me you’re not interested so I can go. I promise I’ll leave you alone after this.”

“Mingyu, he’s not my boyfriend,” you tell him, flapping your arms around in frustration. How could he possibly think that your heart belongs to anyone but him? “He’s my roommate.”

“He’s your—?” Mingyu blinks in surprise. “Wait, what?”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh at his reaction. “He’s just my roommate, Gyu. We were going out to lunch with some friends after work, so he picked me up.”

Still, he looks confused. “And he’s not your boyfriend?”

“Mingyu, why would I date someone else? I like you.”

As soon as you admit it, you feel your heart breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, it seems to say.

“You—You like me?” he stammers.

“Yes, silly,” you smile. “For ages now.”

For a moment, Mingyu just stands there staring at you with his mouth hanging open in a look of utter disbelief. Then, his face splits into a grin bright enough to light up the night sky.

“That’s amazing!” he all but shouts and before you realize what’s happening, he closes the space between you, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you.

But you don’t have long to process it, that Mingyu just kissed you, before he’s pulling away again.

When he steps back, his eyes are wide and his face looks mortified. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have—”

You silence his apology by stepping forward and reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull his mouth back down to yours.

He makes a noise of surprise, but quickly melts into the kiss. His arms come up to encircle your back and pull you into his chest. You stumble forward with a tiny gasp and accidentally knock him backwards against the closet door, but that’s all the better, really.

Your bodies press flush together and you kind of love that it’s him pressed up against the door and your kiss that’s holding him there. It starts out sweet and innocent, like the release of a long held breath, but then Mingyu tilts his head to the side and deepens the kiss. You kiss him back just as eagerly, your heart nearly bursting with happiness that you finally get to kiss him like this.

Unfortunately, it’s not long before you’re interrupted by a loud banging on the other side of the door. You and Mingyu startle and jump apart.

“Hey, are you guys done making out in there? We have to go!” a voice calls.

It’s Seokmin. And by the faint sniggering you hear, he’s accompanied by one Xu Minghao.

Mingyu groans and pinches his brow in annoyance. “I’m going to murder them.”

“Sounds like you better go,” you say, an amused smile on your lips.

But Mingyu doesn’t make to leave. Instead, he reaches out and reels you back into him, a pout on his face. “But I don’t wanna,” he complains, and leans down to brush his lips against yours. “I wanna kiss you.”

You laugh and indulge him in short but sweet kiss. Then, you pull away and gently push him toward the door. “Go on, silly, or you’ll get us both in trouble.”

Mingyu makes an unhappy noise as you push him away, but sighs and finally turns to go. He pauses with his hand on the door and looks back at you, his eyes remorseful. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You laugh. “Yes, I’ll see you tomorrow, Gyu,” you promise him.

You don’t say it, but you wish he could stay just as badly as he does. He waves at you as he leaves and your heart tugs in your chest, wanting to follow after him.

“Bye,” you whisper, waving back.

You let him leave first and wait a few minutes before you leave, too—partially because you don’t want to get him in trouble, but mostly to avoid the guaranteed teasing you’re bound to receive if you’re spotted by any Seventeen members or fellow stylists.

The coast is clear, so you begin making your way back to the styling room. You only make it a few steps before you feel your phone start to buzz in your back pocket.

You stop and pull it out. It’s Mingyu.

“Hello?” you answer, vaguely concerned that he’s calling you so soon.

“Y/N! I forgot to tell you something. I’m such a jerk, I knew you said it, but I never responded and I didn’t want you to think that I don’t—”

“Gyu, just tell me what it is,” you interrupt his panicked rambling with a laugh.

His voice drops to a whisper, probably to avoid being overheard by his members.

“I like you, too,” he murmurs.

“Did he just say that he likes Y/N?” a loud voice that sounds distinctly like Seungkwan calls in the background. “Is that Y/N on the phone? Is it? Is it?”

“ . . . Yes,” Mingyu admits. You can hear the begrudging in his voice and it makes you giggle.

“Finally!” Soonyoung chimes in. “It’s about time.”

A chorus of laugher, hooting, and clapping resounds from the other end of the line.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Joshua calls to you.

You laugh. “Thanks, Josh,” you reply, even though you know that it’s only Mingyu who can hear you.

“I hate them,” Mingyu groans.

“Well, at least now we don’t have to tell them,” you point out.

“Like we didn’t already know,” you hear Minghao comment, close to the receiver.

“Could you guys give me some space already? Jeez!”

There’s the sound of a scuffle, followed by more laughter and another voice, probably Seungcheol, saying, “Alright, alright, give him some space guys.”

A moment later, Mingyu sighs. “Sorry about them, Y/N. I should probably go.“

“It’s okay, Gyu, I’ll talk to you later,” you reassure him.

“Okay.” Again, he sounds disappointed to leave you and it makes your heart flutter with happiness.

“Oh, and hey, Gyu?” you say before he can hang up.

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“I like you, too,” you tease him.

“Did I just hear Y/N say that they like you?” a voice shouts right by your ear.

The last thing you hear is Mingyu say, “Chan, I swear to god—” before the line suddenly goes dead. You pull the phone way from your ear to inspect the screen, then shake your head and laugh.

“Those boys,” you murmur.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes again. It’s a text message from Mingyu.

I can’t wait for tomorrow, it says with a smiley face at the end. It’s sweet and cheesy and very Mingyu.