Archive of Our Own

Did I Mention - Mitchel Hope - Descendants

“You can do better than that,” he says, and Minho’s world stops spinning immediately.

 If this were a reality tv show, this would be the dancers “cut the cameras” moment, and they’d have 10 seconds to do so before he starts swinging. 

Having a crush on someone has to be one of the most humiliating experiences in the world. No matter how good it feels, it’s an excitingly lame and embarrassing process that will have you waking up in the morning to see one face one time in the hallway.

A will to live in high school, middle school, and any other underdeveloped grade level that comes before the fact. 

Minho is no stranger to crushes; he has had his fair share of humbling fancies in his short 18 years on planet earth. It only makes sense, he’s basically an adult now, after all. 

For example, when he was 10, he had a crush on Dah Edmuny, a slightly older boy who lived across the street. Dah was 14, already in high school, and played every instrument like a prodigy for the entire 6 years they were neighbors. Then, he got a girlfriend. Though Minho never had a chance, he was not impressed with Coco being at every one of his piano lessons, and he immediately got the ick when he saw how poorly Dah treated the girl. 

Again, when he was 13, he had a crush on Ellie Glider; she was one of his first female crushes, a secure masc young lady in his breakdancing class. They had kissed at sleepovers and during truth or dare, made out during seven minutes in heaven, 8th grade year—but she was the one that got away when her family moved across the city before he grew the balls to say he was into it. 

It helped that all his friends at the time were convinced he was gay, just because they saw him kiss Han Jisung once or twice, and stupidly believed bisexuals or queer males didn't exist. 

As Minho got older, his affection began to require that the receiver have a respectable list of traits and attributes, rather than just one admirable quality. It was quite the predicament that someone with a track record of admired company like Minho’s had suddenly become—what seemed like—too mature to like someone for no reason anymore. 

Despite the grueling process, at 16, all of this suddenly changed. 

It started when his best friend Christopher began bringing some loser kid friend of his to meetings with their friend group. He started sitting with them at lunch, going to the movies with them, and even showing up for group projects or outings after one of them had an event, extracurricular, or game. 

He was younger than Minho, a pretty boy if he had ever seen one outside of his friend group. He’d love to mean that as an insult, but Minho had been genuinely intrigued by him, so it makes his competence hard to deny.

Kim Seungmin was the quiet type; he was almost shy before you truly became accustomed to him. Minho felt bad for him when he was tricked into thinking his reserved nature meant he was too tame to get along with their oddball group of teenagers, but Minho found out real quick that that was not the case.

Kim Seungmin was insane. He was not the type to dance on tables at college parties while he’s under age, or swing on someone because of an inconvenience in the hallway, but he was inadvertently hilarious, bold, and playful. 

Minho knew his 2 year long streak of fancying nobody had at last come to an end when he watched the other ragebait the dance teacher into ending class early, just so Minho would walk him home. Twice, because on another occasion, he did it again so Minho could join their friends and watch his play.  

Seungmin is a theater kid, and weirdly enough considering his deadpan nature, he is a fantastic actor. But that matters little since he is almost always the director instead of a main character. 

When he first realized that Seungmin was his new infatuation, he figured it would pass. Like they all did. So he kept it to himself. Two years later, it has gotten no better. Minho hasn’t dated anyone since he was 15, nor has he kissed, cuddled or even glanced someone else's way. 

He is missing the teenage lovesick whiplash phase, all because Kim Seungmin and his stupid witty humor, and his stupid love for dramatics and his STUPID shiny braces and pretty eyes that—annoyingly—resemble a puppy. 

Relatedly, Minho’s senior prom is coming up, and he’s about to leave for college with Chan and Changbin after the summer is out, which means they will not see each other for months at a time because Seungmin—as well as the rest of their friends—will still be in high school. 

This is one of the only reasons Minho was able to work up the courage to ask such an important question to the boy in the first place. Because he’s sure he can flee and never have to be faced with his failures if Seungmin said no. 

He was sure he wouldn’t, not only because Seungmin and him were attached at the hip at all times of the day, even when their friend group wasn’t there. But because beneath his little shit persona, Seungmin is sweet, and he loves Minho. Something he admitted when they were all high off of the edibles Jisung brought to the movies.

At last, it seems he was wrong all along.

“What?” the dancer gapes, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in surprise as he stares at the other, willing himself not to cry. 

Seungmin—all braces and puppy eyes—shrugs, bringing the bouquet Minho had given him to his face, sniffing it briefly. He seems to be filled with joy as he stomps on the seniors heart, shifting casually where he stands with the flowers hugged to his chest, up against his kuromi cardigan.

“I said these are pretty, but you can do better. I’ll take them because your cute and they’re nice, but my answer is no, for now.” He repeats.

The ‘for now’ doesn’t register. Minho is straining himself to try and listen to the other boy, but his heart is beating so loudly in his chest that he can hear it in his ears. 

Seungmin huffs, rolling his eyes. “I know you feel our soul tie, you avoidant loser. I’ve had to wait 2 years for any type of confession from you, you wouldn’t even let me kiss you my freshman year, and it’s all because you’ve wanted to be a tsundere, and now you wait till you're about to leave to ask me out. That’s not cool at all.”

Seungmin is casually messing with the individual flowers of the bouquet, a small pout sporting on his lips as he talks. Minho’s heart would have skipped a beat at the cute habit, had it not been already about to beat out of his chest. 

“I can see you panicking. Stop it before you give yourself an aneurysm.” Seungmin interjects, piercing the seniors thoughts.

For some reason, that works. And suddenly Minho has his awareness back. At least enough of it to scold Seungmin for being a little shit. Like always.

“Dude, you just rejected me. What do you mean don’t panic? I should punch you.” Minho is glaring at the younger boy as he talks, only slightly irritated with him. He’s not angry, not in the slightest. But he needs to pretend to be, lest Seungmin gaze into his soul with those annoying doll eyes and poke at his vulnerable bits. 

Seungmin scoffs, shaking his head. “See, you're not listening. You're too caught up in appearances. I’m not rejecting you, get it?.” 

Minho squints, then blinks rapidly. “You just told me no.” he clarifies, because clearly Seungmin is the one not listening to his own words. The other nods, humming in confirmation. “Yeah, no, for now. I also said you could do better. I don’t know about you, but after 2 years of passive aggressive affection and unnecessary pining, I think you can be a bit more…I don’t know… cinematic?” he shrugs. 

Minho runs a hand down his face, fighting the urge to pull his hair out. He had an underlying concern that something like this would happen. But he figured there was more of a possibility that Seungmin had grown tired of waiting for something to blossom between them, and indulge in the opportunity at romance. 

Of course he was wrong. Because things can never be simple with Kim Seungmin. 

“You theater kids and your dramatics, who just rejects someone and then openly admits their into it?!”

“Well, who crushes on the theater kid but refuses to make a move for 2 years?”

Dammit, he’s got Minho there. In his defense, he doesn’t like confronting his feelings. They are messy and loud and violent, they scare Minho, so why would he hand them to anyone else? No matter how much Minho feels like he can’t breathe with Seungmin not around. 

“You're really such a little shit! Just go to prom with me.”
Seungmin laughs—giggles is more like it—before leaning in, placing a little kiss on Minho’s cheek, smiling too brightly at him. “You're smart, you will figure something out. I’m sure your promposal is gonna be great. If it is, you’ve got yourself a date.” 

Minho scoffs, crossing his arms. He can’t help but feel defensive. “What if I just decided to abandon my ask and take someone else?” He says, face long with sorrow he can’t seem to hide. 

Seungmin shrugs, giggling again. “I don’t think you will. I know you love me, Lee Minho. Now all you have to do is let me love you back.” He beams. 

Minho gapes, he glares, he grumbles. Still, Seungmin smiles, mouth full of metal. “Kim Seungmin.” he sighs, realizing there is no way he is going to win this. “Lee Minho.” the younger repeats, tugging at Minho’s red ears. “I have practice, see you at your recital.” he adds, throwing in a cute tilt of his head to put sugar in the fire.

He then turns, bouncing off down the hallway, with Minho’s two hundred dollar bouquet clutched against his lavender cardigan. 

The worst part about this? 

It’s not that Minho will—infact—see Seungmin at his recital tonight and have to look his rejection in the eyes, it’s that he has to face his friends before the fact and after he’s been denied. 

Minho does not remember how he got through the rest of the day.

He does remember two things though: 1, that Kim Seungmin took his 200 dollars. That's like.. 2 whole shifts at his part time job right there. And 2, that same Kim Seungmin rejected him. Because “for now” does not count. 

By lunchtime, he is being publicly executed in the library, as his group of friends clutch their stomachs, parked between bookshelves on the carpeted floor, the contexts of 7 book bags cluttering the ground they sit on. 

Minho leaned back, folding his hands as he glared at the book on the shelf behind Changbin. Changbin, along with the rest of their friends, was struggling to contain his laughter. 

“Wait, let me get this straight…” Hyunjin says breathlessly, holding up a hand like it’s somehow going to stop his obnoxious, high-pitched laughing. “You asked Seungmin—our Seungmin—to prom with flowers and a hallway proposal after making him wait two whole years for reciprocation?”

“Our Seungmin,” Jisung echoes, already grinning. “The same Seungmin who made us run suicide drills because Changbin showed up three minutes late to rehearsal?”

“Four,” Changbin argues automatically. “The same Seungmin who took away your role in the school musical because you forgot his coffee?” Jisung continues.

“I didn’t forget, they didn’t have the caramel! I told him that. He’s just annoying!”

“The same Seungmin who walked home in the dark after theater practice, because you wouldn’t let him hold your hand in the hallway on the way to the pep rally?” Changbin tags on. 

Minho simply leans back against the shelf, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glares around the circle at his idiot friends. If he wasn’t so emotionally attached to them, he would’ve left ten minutes ago.
“You guys are doing too much. Don’t act shocked if I start swinging.”

“On the contrary, Min,” Felix pipes up. Unlike Hyunjin and Jisung, he isn’t doubled over laughing, but he is smiling like this is the best entertainment he’s had all week. “I actually think you’re doing too little. Seungmin said ‘you can do better,’ not ‘I don’t want to go with you.’ Which means if you improve your delivery, he’ll definitely say yes next time.”

“That little shit really thinks I’m gonna ask again,” Minho scoffs, eyes narrowed coldly, as if he hadn’t already started scribbling potential ‘Grand Promposal’ ideas into Hyunjin’s sketchbook the second he got home.

“Yeah, okay, mate,” Chan says, thick Aussie accent slipping out as he pats Minho’s back with a heavy hand.

“You just gotta try harder,” Changbin adds. “He’s probably sick of you acting nonchalant all the time.”

“What was nonchalant about the two hundred dollar bouquet in his favorite color?” Minho shoots back immediately. “He’s a fucking brat.”

Jisung snorts. “You’re really emotionally attached to this bouquet, huh?”

“To be fair,” Felix hums thoughtfully. “200 dollars worth of flowers when you get paid like..13 an hour is..a pretty reasonable thing to be upset about.” 

“I mean, honestly, I’d agree that taking the flowers after saying no was kind of petty. If, one, we weren’t all fully aware that petty is literally Seungmin’s middle name. And two, that you would’ve been even more upset if he hadn’t taken them.” Jeongin is the one who says it this time, unsurprisingly. Honesty has always been one of his most dangerous character traits.

A chorus of agreement breaks out around the room for several long seconds. Minho sinks further against the bookshelf, the tips of his ears burning as he glares at all of them, mentally launching ice picks directly into their corneas.

“You’re taking this way too hard, bro,” Jisung says through another laugh. “It’s Seungmin. A theater kid. A choir kid. You gotta put more thought into it than flowers and hallway suffering.”

Minho grumbles under his breath but doesn’t answer.

“Don’t look at us like that,” Felix says, smiling sympathetically. From where he’s perched beside Minho, he leans over to grab one of Minho’s hands between both of his own, rubbing his knuckles supportively like Minho’s just gone through a breakup instead of a mildly humiliating rejection. “We’ll help you.”

“Yeah, mate, we’ve got you,” Chan agrees immediately, nodding with enough confidence to make it sound like they’re preparing for war instead of a promposal redo.

The rest of the group—minus one visibly annoyed Jeongin—echoes their support.

“Who’s we?” Jeongin deadpans. “I have soccer practice on weekdays. Why can’t you just confess your homosexual love for him directly so we can all move on with our lives?”

That earns him a smack in the arm from Changbin, who nudges him and gives him a look. Jeongin pouts, Minho scowls at him, but says nothing. They all know that Jeongin uses Minho’s soft spot for him as their youngest friend like a bullet proof vest. 

Jeongin sighs, rubbing his arm. “Fine. What do we do?” he agrees, albeit hesitantly. Minho shoots him a sly little cat smirk from across their friend pile of sleep deprived teen boys. “Fake ass nonchalant. I saw you loving your friends!” Jisung accused too loudly, Jeongin responds by promptly punching him in his side. 

While Jisung is holding his side—groaning dramatically in pain—MInho sighs, eyes closed as he tries his hardest to come up with an answer. Jeongin is right, how do they do that? 

Seungmin is—as mentioned time and time again—a theater choir kid. How do you impress someone who performs for applause on a regular basis? Who is such a perfectionist that he gives himself roles in plays because no one else is working hard enough to perfect them? Who runs lines with classmates hours after the school is closed and practice is over? 

Minho has his work cut out for him. He almost wishes he would have simply stepped out of his comfort zone as a sophomore and kissed Seungmin during one of their many walks home after sleepovers, after practices, after hangouts. Somewhere, sometime, he should have made a move. But he didn’t. And now, he and his idiot friends are trying to brainstorm ways to cheat to victory after he’s failed the same test over and over again. 

“Why hello, boys. Racking up complaints from the librarian again, I see?”

A woman’s voice cuts through the chaos behind Jisung, instantly pulling the group’s attention away from each other. Eight heads swivel around almost in sync.

She’s tall, wearing wedges and big hoop earrings, a flowy floral dress draped over her figure. She smiles politely, though Minho still gives her a strange look. He’s not used to seeing her in actual casual clothes. Mrs. Deyneri is almost always in workout gear, considering she spends half her life running around the school as head of the arts department.

Arts as in everything arts. Music, theater, dance, creative direction—all of it. And considering every single one of them is involved in some kind of extracurricular activity, club, or performance group, they all know her well.

“Mrs.D!! You got something to eat?” Jisung is the loudest.
“Hi Mrs.Deyneri.” Changbin and Felix are in sync.
“Hellooo” Chan sing songs.

“Hi hi,” Minho deadpans, and Jeongin gives a simple little smile and wave.

“Good evening, you know, I heard you guys from the library entrance. I'm sure you're putting the same energy into your arts though, yes?” The woman notes, reaching into her purse and pulling out a bag of what looks to be cookies, handing it to Jisung, who lights up as he takes it, so quickly he might have been temporarily possessed by a power puff girl. 

“Of course! Senior projects are kind of trying to take three of us out though, can’t lie.” Chan replies as he and the rest of the boys swarm Jisung like vultures. The boy whines, pushing them away despite it having no benefit in keeping his snacks safe. 

“That’s how it goes, especially since you are all in sports and clubs. Uh– what is it for you three again? Dance, choir, and band?” Changbin, Chan and Minho nod in agreement, she hums, pleased with her correct answers. “So you have senior projects as well as senior showcases and events, isn’t that right? That’s a full plate. But it’ll make sure you prepared for college schedules at the very least.”

Minho peers up at the woman quietly, thoughtful for the first time in the past twenty minutes. He does have a lot on his plate lately. Assignments, performances, prom, graduation—and looming over all of it like a storm cloud—is his senior showcase.

Which is basically the final boss battle of being on the dance team.

The performance has been hanging over his head for weeks now, bringing with it the constant pressure to do well. To do something meaningful. Something memorable. More than anything, he still hasn’t figured out what kind of performance he wants to dedicate himself to perfecting.

And Minho doesn’t do things halfway when it comes to dance.

It’s his college major. His future.

His final showcase needs to be impressive. Meaningful.

Cinematic.

The second the word crosses his mind again, Minho’s brain instantly drags up a memory he’s been trying very hard not to think about.

“I don’t know about you, but after two years of passive-aggressive affection, I think you can be a bit more… I don’t know… cinematic?”

For some reason, the memory irritates him.

But it also makes something click.

The noise of his friends and Mrs. Deyneri fades into the background as Minho’s thoughts begin connecting like gears turning into place. His eyes widen slightly.

Seungmin wants cinema.

Minho’s showcase needs to be cinematic enough to impress both his coach and Mrs. Deyneri, and strong enough to leave a mark before graduation, and score him an A+

For the first time in weeks, Minho thinks he knows exactly what he eats the foundation of his performance to be.

“—Well, make sure you're all seeing the end of the school year through, I expect more than excuses. I want to see you win, but you must put in the effort. Yes?” she smiles, acknowledging all of them.

There’s a chorus of agreements and farewells amongst the boys, before the woman turns around, waving them goodbye before disappearing into the library between shelves. 

It's a casual moment of chatter as the 7 of them go back to their conversation, munching away on the snack that was supposed to be Jisung’s. Minho sits with his thoughts for a moment, lips shaped in an O as he blinks, deep in thought. It’s Chan who waves a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of it. 

“What’s up Min?” he says, leaning to catch his eye. Minho whips his head around to the other, who blinks at him curiously when he doesn’t say anything. The others quiet down, turning to them. “You look like you’d just cracked a code.” Hyunjin notes,Jisung half-collapsed into him, Felix still holding his hand like he’s fragile, Changbin mid-chew, Jeongin already suspicious.

“Aw fuk, here he goes,” the youngest sighs, pinched brows rising as he bites into a chocolate chip cookie. Minho ignores him, “…He said cinematic.” He starts.
“Yeah,” Jisung snorts, “and basically called you lame—”
“No,” Minho cuts in, sharper this time.

They are quiet as Minho’s expression shifts—still annoyed, still a little wrecked—but there’s something else now. “He wants a performance.” There’s a beat, nobody seems to be catching his drift.

“…Okay?” Changbin says slowly, Minho’s lips twitch up, scoffing a laugh. He’s impressed by his own genius even before he shares the idea or says it out loud. “My senior showcase! What if I like– performed a song for him as my final project.”

Silence.

Nobody even bothers to look around at one another.

They simply stare at Minho, buffering.

Then—

“Oh my fucking god, bro! He’s gonna freak out!” Felix beams.
Chaos immediately erupts between the seven of them.

One second they’re all on their feet, shouting over each other and grabbing Minho like they collectively came up with the idea themselves. The next, they’re getting aggressively shushed by the librarian before being kicked out altogether.

Hyunjin is full-on fangirling about how romantic it is. Felix is rambling about how perfect the concept is and how practical Minho is for “killing two birds with one stone.” Chan, naturally, is trying to keep everyone moving while also half-side-hugging Minho with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Changbin, Jeongin, and Jisung trail beside them, already laughing about how violently Seungmin is going to lose his mind when it finally happens.

And Minho walks in the middle of his loud, obnoxious friends plagued by one very immediate issue:

What the hell is he actually supposed to do for this showcase?

Because sure, the concept is there now. The vision is there. But execution is a completely different beast. It’s a problem. A big one. And one Minho absolutely needs to solve immediately.

Still, he forgets about all of it the second the seven of them shove open the auditorium doors.

Their attention snaps toward the stage.

Under the bright spotlight, surrounded by rows and rows of empty seats, Kim Seungmin spins across the stage with a microphone in hand, braces glinting every time he smiles. He and other students are scattered on and in front of the stage, practicing for their final play. Still, they all turn to see what the ruckus is about before realizing that, per usual, it is their directors annoying group of friends that simply don’t know how to shut up in quiet spaces. 

Seungmin rolls his eyes, still as pretty as ever though he looks tired, probably from his own end of the year responsibilities. “Shut the fuck up!” Seungmin says, even though he’s making his way to the end of the stage, crouching down to get closer to his friends, a knowing smile on his face.

It does nothing to detur them.

They bombard towards the stage, jumping and waving as they approach their friend, attempting to update him on the past few hours with zero coordination or patience. 

“You always come in here so loudly, what are you, a petting zoo?” Seungmin questions when they’re close enough to hear him and finally decide to calm down. 

“We missed you!” Jisung whines. Seungmin rolls his eyes, even though he reaches down to hold the others hand when Jisung reaches up. “Who is we?” Jeongin says. “I second that.” Minho adds. 

Seungmin, the little shit, responds by leaping off the stage and into the small crowd of boys. They all groan and yell as each one of them pitches in on catching the other, someone’s footsteps being heard as they are complaining even with Seungmin in their hold. 

“Mr.Kim, we’ve talked about this. Practice is already long as it is, we don’t need your friends shenanigans interrupting.” the woman is holding a clipboard, tugging at her cardigan and wrapping it around herself like a disappointed English teacher. The group settles down to a rowdy whisper as Seungmin is helped back to his feet, turning towards the stage to look at the educator. 

“Sorry Dr. Ansley, in my defense I didn’t tell them to come here.”

“Yes, you never do, back to work, there’s only a few more minutes. Per usual, if you boys can sit quietly and wait, you’re welcome to watch.”

There’s a chorus of “yes ma’am” and “of course” from the boys as they trickle into the front row and Seungmin climbs back on stage. Throughout the entire ordeal, Minho can’t seem to stop his heart from beating manically between his ribs. This isn’t a symptom of his rejection, this always happens when he’s around Seungmin. The boy is just… offensively pretty.

Looking at him for too long makes Minho nervous in a way he absolutely hates. It makes his stomach swoop, his chest tighten, his thoughts go stupid and fuzzy around the edges.

How fucking annoying.

Minho—deeply against his own will—has known it was a crush since the day they met.

It’s accepting it that is making trouble for him. 

Controlling the symptoms.

It’s infuriating, because somehow one metal-mouthed theater nerd who can’t read a room to save his life has completely destroyed Minho’s ability to act normal. Seungmin never just lets him stay cool and detached the way he pretends to be. No, instead he has to make Minho’s pulse spike and his thoughts spiral every time he smiles too hard.

“You're staring again, dude. Have some shame.” Felix playfully whispers to him, while was not so peacefully watching as Seungmin was demonstrating a line for his classmate. 

“Shut up, cunt.” Minho says, mocking Felix’s Australian accent, sending the rest of them into a fit of forcefully hushed laughter. 

“Your mom.” he hears next to him, because weirdly enough, he can’t look away. Even as he’s actively being called out for it. “I’m telling her you said that.” Minho whispers back. 

“Hey hey hey now, there’s no reason to snitch.”

Despite Minho’s complaints and threats, the problem follows him home. And not his prettiest problem—Seungmin had work the next morning, so they walked him back to his place—he means the small herd of loud humans he tolerates. Some might call the 6 annoying bastards his friends. 

By the time they get back to Minho’s house, the day has exhausted them enough that nobody has energy for much besides ordering pizza, fighting over shower turns, and eventually collapsing around Minho’s bedroom like discarded laundry.

It doesn’t take long for the room to go quiet after that. Which is unusual for them.

One by one, the boys knock out in random places around the room, surrounded by pizza boxes, blankets, and the remnants of another stupidly long teenage day.

The next morning is a different story, when Minho wakes up, he thinks he’s hallucinating whispers and hushed laughter in his nightmares before he rolls over and lands on top of another body. Based on the bone structure and body type, and the deep groan from impact he hears when they collide, it’s Jisung and someone else.

 There’s three of them side by side, crowded into his king bed, and someone leaning against the side on the floor on an iPad. When he cracks his eyes open, he sees a head of brown hair peeking over the edge, Felix he recognizes. Whispering with him—and sharing one of Minho’s moms blankets on a pallet—is Chan, whose smile is too big for absolutely no reason at ass crack o’clock in the morning. 

Past Chan's puffy mashed potato face, Changbin and Jeongin are slumped on an air mattress nearby. Factually, there’s open space towards the end of the bed that they’ve neglected. But the group of them have never been big on personal space, that much is obvious by the legs tangled with Minho’s beneath his blanket. 

“Shut up, it’s like 8 am.” Minho grumbles. 

“It’s noon.” Chan corrects, unimpressed. 

“And your mom is making lunch.” Felix adds, his morning voice sounding much like Batman, unlike Minho, who is more similar to boots from Dora the explorer. 

“Sweet.” They hear from the other side of Felix. They whip around,  spotting movement on top of the air mattress, Changbin rises at the mention of food, hair muddled and just one eye halfway open. “Whats she makin’?” He mumbles, fighting a silent fight with his half conscious sleep brain. 

Minho rolls over, groaning. Well, he tries to. With Hyunjin and Jisung cuddling slumped in his bed next to him, he doesn’t have much space to turn. He does not scoot closer to them and form a triple person cuddle pile. Even if he did, they couldn’t prove it in a court of law. 

He doesn’t have time to drift fully back into sleep, not before his mom calls them to come eat with a loud, clear “Boys!!” from across the house. 

They must look like a small herd of adolescent mummies, stumbling out of the bedroom in basketball shorts and pajama pants, heads of hair comically similar to birds nests. Minho sits at the dining table as his mom is setting a plate of pancakes the size of a small stump on the table. 

She kisses his head, saying something about how she has to catch a flight for work and will be back before his showcase, throwing in a few words about cleaning the kitchen when they're finished. Then she ruffles Felix and Chan’s heads on the way out the door, and the 7 of them groan goodbyes as they waste no time digging in, right after letting Felix and Jeongin pray for the table. 

“I thought you said her trip was next week.” Jisung grumbles as he stabs a pancake with a fork, not bothering to cut it up as he chomps down on it, chewing with his eyes half closed.

“I said that last week, stupid.” Minho sighs, dragging bacon onto his plate. 

“Oh yeah.” is all Jisung answers. There’s idle chatter, about nothing and everything. The plates with enough food to feed a village that sat full in the middle of the table 20 minutes ago quickly  empty the louder and more awake they all get, and soon the 7 of them are more than conscious enough to be arguing over who gets the last of the orange juice, and who is washing the dishes. 

Reflexively—with the phone he doesn’t remember grabbing when he rolled out of bed—he checks Seungmin’s location, unable to not notice that he is the only one of them missing from their chaos crowd. He expects the boy to be at work, since he told them the night before that he won’t be off until 4:00 pm, (the senior insisted on picking him up) but Minho squints irritably at his cellphone when his location reads a street name instead of Target, where Seungmin is supposed to be for another 3 hours. 

With quick thumbs, he texts the boy with irritation he hates feeling. Seungmin is his own person, logically, Minho knows that. But he can’t help it. Why lie if he didn’t actually have work? Was he that eager to not sleepover with them? If he lied about that, maybe he really didn’t want to go to prom with Minho at all. It doesn’t make any sense. He’s blunt in every other sense, why would he start lying now?

Where are you going?
12:42 pm

I thought you had work.

12:42 pm

Minho doesn’t get a chance to spiral or chew on his bacon aggressively for very long, Seungmin comes in the clutch quickly, making Minho feel stupid as soon as he reads the reply. 

I am on my lunch break rn

12:43 pm

I was going to come to your 

house to chow down if you haven’t already been eaten out of house  and home, but you’re being ugly today so maybe I’ll go to in n’ out or something instead.

12:43 pm

“Minho!”

“Huh??” The dancer says, head flicking up from his phone. The boys are staring at him, he stares back, blinking rapidly. They give him an odd look, he attempts to mean mug them so they don’t ask him anything that pokes at his vulnerability. Of course, it doesn’t work. 

“Are you stalking Seungmin again?” Changbin asks, lifting an eyebrow at him while he fork fights with Jisung for the last fried egg. 

“Are you meddling again?” Minho shoots back. “Always.” Changbin answers, nodding. 

“We were asking if you had come up with anything for your showcase yet?” Felix says from across the table, humming in delight when Chan feeds him a fork of pancake. 

There’s a silent, stretched moment of stillness. It’s filled with teenage hormones and lack of progress, and if Minho wasn’t frozen in place, he’d be coughing on his bacon. He shoves his tongue in his cheek, he’s reluctant to, but still he admits, slowly and annoyed with his own incompetence. “No.”

Silence, again, for a solid 10 seconds at least, before chuckling can be heard coming from Jisung and Felix. They are lucky they are delicate, or else Minho would have clobbered them. “You’re laughing. This is my graduation credit AND my senior prom we’re talking about and your laughing.” Minho glares. 

“I’m sorry, Min. But seriously! You're telling me you have this master plan to impress your crush of two years and dominate your biggest senior project, but you have no idea what you're doing for it? That’s really concerning.” Felix says honestly, Minho knows Felix is always genuine, so his words put a damper on his spirit. They hit hard.

Still, he keeps him glare steady, silent through the turmoil eating him alive from the inside. Even with his resting bitch face, Chan catches onto his disease and tries to assist. “Don’t make it sound like his failure is set in stone Lix! Come on, man. You're great, and your performance will be too. We just have to figure out what you’ll do for it. What about like—I don't know—a musical number or something?”

“You want me to have half the school behind me doing the sprinkler while I hold a sign or something? No way. That’s lame, I can't even picture it.” Minho denies, shaking his head. He hears a meow and sees a grey tail beneath the table. His worries are eased the slightest bit when he notices all his friends thinking over their food, and feels a soft lump of fur brush his legs. His cat Dori must have sensed his disease. 

“What if you sing to him?” Hyunjin tries.
“Yeah, Jinnie, that’s the plan. But the problem is what he’s singing.” Jeongin supplies, helping the older boy out a bit. “Woah, who said anything about singing? I’m a dancer.” Minho objects, shaking his head.

“Oh come on, Min. Suengminnie is a vocalist, there’s no way you can expect to perform for him and not sing. As he would say, have some whimsy.” Jeongin pushes. Minho shakes his head again. “Absolutely not.” Dancing in front of the whole school is enough, but you want me to sing too? Like I’m a Disney princess? No.” 

“Well the point is to make Seungmin feel like a princess, isn’t it? So that’s probably the path you should be considering.” Changbin hums, shrugging.
“That would make Minho the prince charming then, which means you gotta sweep Minnie off of his feet. Good luck bro, you literally could not have a brattier princess.” Hyunjin laughs.

“Thanks, Hwang. Do yourself a favor, eat slowly. I wouldn’t want you to choke.” Minho comments sweetly. Hyunjin looks at him suspiciously, slowly placing the bagel he was about to eat back onto his plate.

“He’s right dude, Seungmin is peculiar.” Felix says.
“He’s a loser is what he means.” Changbin corrects.

“This is all so pointless, nothing any of you are saying is helping.” Minho murmurs, suddenly he feels very tired again. His eyelids are heavy, and his head is starting to hurt. It’s too early for this shit, even if it is almost 1 pm. 

“Okay, don’t stress, think guys. What does Seungmin like that he absolutely can’t say no to?” Chan questions. There is quiet for another few seconds, before Jisung laughs softly. “Music. Theater.” 

“Baseball.” 

“Purple”

“Kimchi”

“League of legends.”

“I know all of that. Useless, once again.” Minho sighs, head in his hands. It’s like they have .5 of a problem solving skill when it comes to assisting him in just about anything. He has to find better friends. 

“He’s really obsessed with specific musicals and stuff, like Hamilton and descendants.” Felix tries again. Hyunjin perks up at that. “Yeah! He’s got a major thing about the descendants series, especially the soundtrack. Pretty sure he went as Mal trick or treating his 8th grade year.”

“Okay, progress, descendants are dope movies! There has to be something from one of them you can use? They’re fairytales technically right? Fairytales are usually romantic and cinematic. What's the most romantic scene from the movie?” Chan says, Minho doesn’t jump to say they are actually closing in on a decision out of fear of jinxing it. Still, his eyes dart around the table at his friends and his heart speeds up in his chest, he’s so close. He can feel it. 

“Most romantic? Space Between without a doubt.”
“It’s not like they can just turn into lesbians, Jinnie.” Felix chuckles.
“Not with that attitude they can’t.” 

“Eh–” Jisung hesitates, there’s a pause, and Minho almost thinks they’ve lost it, before Jeongin gasps, hitting Jisung’s arm as something seemingly comes to him. “Dude! Did I Mention!”

There's silence again for a moment, but soon it’s followed by the 5 other boys shaking the table with an explosion of excitement that startled Jeongin and Minho out of their hello kitty and Batman pajamas pants. 

“Innie you fucking genius!” Hyunjin says, nearly pouncing on the youngest of the group. 

“Wait wait wait—- did I mention? Did you mention what??” Minho says, his eyes wide as he tries to catch up. His large piece of their shared brain cell seems to be lagging behind.  

“Minho! Did I Mention from Descendants! Seungmin loves that song!” Jisung is gesturing widely, excitement seemingly edged into his bones where he’s stood up near the table. “You could perform it at your senior showcase! It’s like— his favorite scene from the whole movie series! He listens to it like at least 40 times a week. It’s on every playlist he has for crying out loud! That's your song dude!”

Minho blinks rapidly, silently. He searches and searches in his brain, looking for a good reason to say no that doesn’t outright tell the entire table that it’s humiliating. But he can’t find anything. 

Horrified, he contains his panic beneath a cool, evil exterior, folding his arms over his chest. 

“No.” He says simply. 

Expressions of disappointment are heard from all around the table, his friends groaning and complaining about how picky he is. “I’m tired of you!” Changbin says. Minho only leans back in his seat, crossing his arms and scowling. 

“I told you, I’m not singing! I can’t sing!”

“Yes you can!” Felix protests. “Don’t act like we haven’t seen you running lines for musicals with Seungmin the past 2 years, or heard you belting Bruno Mars in the shower.”

“Yeah man, you're a great singer! Just like Minnie! He’ll love it!” 

Minho racks his brain trying to find an excuse for why this is not a good idea. Why this is ridiculous, and why they are ridiculous for trying to get him to do it. But, horrifically, he can’t seem to find one. He swipes his hands down his face, ears bright as strawberries, face hot as stars.

“Dammit… where’s the fucking choreography posted?

Excitements lights up the room once again, his stupid friends are around him in a second, tugging his pink ears and shaking him by the shoulders, bouncing with joy. Minho is silent, thinking of how ridiculous this situation really is, no pun intended. 

Lee Minho is so tired of his annoying friends and his annoying crush on stupid little theater nerd Kim Seungmin. But once again, the younger boy has used that medal smile and that diabolical nose scrunch to manipulate Minho into getting his way. 

Kim Seungmin wants Cinema? He’s gonna get it.  

Minho decides to perform Did I Mention on Saturday morning, he turns in his idea on Sunday night, he starts practicing Monday morning, but he doesn’t find anyone to properly teach him the number until Tuesday night. 

Chan’s slightly older friend—a college student double majoring in music and dance—agrees to take on the task of teaching Minho. Jungkook’s a sweet guy, with lots of hobbies and interests that keep his world turning. Minho has met him a couple times, he was actually the one who got him into boxing and motorcycles, they have a lot in common. And it just so happens that Jungkook is a fan of Descendants, who learned its routines out of pure boredom and curiosity. 

Minho spends Wednesday, Thursday and Friday attempting to start learning the routine himself. The choreography isn’t complicated, not for a seasoned dancer like Minho anyway. The real problem is singing and dancing at the same time. It turns out it takes a significantly greater amount of energy to sing on key and dance at the same time than doing either separately does.

For three days, he’s in his living room with the furniture pushed back, huffing and puffing. Frustration eats at him. His vocals aren’t as stable as they should be. In order to perform the peace properly, he has to sound like a harmonious boy in love, but right now, he simply sounds like a sad gasping llama. 

Kim Seungmin is not worth the embarrassment that flushes his ears because his mom giggles with the cats after he tears up due to biting his tongue for the third time. He’s not worth the amount of times he hits his tooth on the mic. He’s so not worth confessing his love in front of the entire school.

But still, somehow, every time Minho thinks he’s had enough, he pictures the joy and surprise on Seungmin’s puppy doll face and his heart skyrockets. Then suddenly, he’s back to his feet again, “Did I Mention” Disney music video playing on the living room tv screen for what feels like the millionth time. 

When Minho finally meets with Jungkook, he is exhausted and excited all in one. He’s learned countless dances for his classes, clubs, and teams—but despite the burden of trying to learn singing and dancing simultaneously—Did I Mention has to be one of the most genuinely fun routines he’s ever been a part of. It helps the fact that he knows he’s going to get it eventually and that when he does, he’ll see a certain brace face light up with glee. He even got Hyunjin and Felix to help him out. 

Jungkook simultaneously makes the process easier and harder. He’s a big giggler, and he never shuts up. But if Minho could sing like him, he’d never shut up either. And he enjoys the laughter breaks that come occasionally between runs. Jungkook teaches Minho about his breathing, about how he’s pushing too hard and that’s not what singing is about. About letting the song control your voice just like you let it control your body. About taking the time to enjoy it and not being so hard on himself. 

Minho doesn’t understand it immediately. Jungkook is a lot more carefree than he is, they exist in very similar, but very different ways. Despite all of their effort, Minho doesn’t actually start mastering the number until Jungkook says something that really changes his perspective.

“I can tell you're having fun, so why are you still so stiff? You're thinking about it too much! You're too anxious. It’s paralyzing you. Let go! You’ll be a lot more confident when you realize that being carefree with your emotions unlocks a lot of expression!” 

Minho cringes outwardly, he barely tells his mom he loves her, but he has to bare his heart in front of the entire student body for something that’s more than a performance? Why not just scoop his heart out and put it beneath a microscope…

Still, Minho sleeps on it that night, and he thinks. Hard. 

About the amount of time he spent avoiding his feelings for Seungmin even though they had mutual affection. About why it is Seungmin postponed his yes in the first place.

‘I’ve had to wait 2 years for any type of confession from you, you wouldn’t even let me kiss you my freshman year, and it’s all because you’ve wanted to be a tsundere. And then you wait till you're about to leave to ask me out. That’s not cool’ 

Maybe he’s right, maybe the only reason he actually stopped running from his feelings for the boy was because he knew he’d be leaving for college soon, and wouldn’t have to deal with the bigger things that came after. 

And maybe, it really wasn’t cool of him. 

Maybe, running away is a weaker move than just allowing himself to be vulnerable.

When Minho wakes up the next morning, he skips school in order to practice by himself. By time lunch rolls around, their ‘stray kids 😜🤘’ group chat  is buzzing with messages from his friends, wondering where he is and why he wasn’t in his classes or with them at lunch.

He ignores them, knowing they will likely follow his location and show up at his door when school lets out anyways. 

He meets with Jungkook a few hours earlier than usual, attempting to be in and out of practice by time school is over so that someone's there to open the door when his loud annoying idiots finally arrive around 4. 

When he walks into the studio, Jungkook immediately raises a brow at him, smiling and nodding as Minho nears where he is plopped in the middle of the hardwood floor.

He giggles, whatever he sees going straight over Minho’s head until he hears his next words. “Man, this is gonna be fucking great.” 

And the improvement is simply there, in the way he moves, in the way he carries himself. It begins to take shape.

When his friends arrive—like he’d assumed they would—at 3:49 on the dot, crammed in Changbin’s moms van, Minho is freshly showered, and his mind is quieter than it had been the past couple days. 

“Your acting odd.” Seungmin comments quietly as he scoots closer on the couch during video games, purposely pressing their arms and hips together and forcing Minho against the edge. The eight of them are playing on Minho’s ps4 in the living room, Hyunjin and Changbin next to them on the couch while Jisung, Chan, Felix and Jeongin a hashing it out with the controllers on the carpet right in front of them. They resemble a pit of snakes with the way they are entangled, basically on top of each other despite there being a second couch to their right.

Minho’s ears begin to tint pink, he pushes to not make an expression as he keeps his eyes on the screen, arms crossed whilst he leans the opposite way of the pretty theater boy. “I’m always odd. Strangeness is my charm.” He answers.

Seungmin squints at him, snuggling up to his side and ignoring the older boys attempt at fleeing. “No, not Minho the strange cat boy odd, I mean suspicious odd. Why are you so…open today? You're not shooing me away.” he prods. 

Minho perks up at that, looking to Seungmin before quickly regretting it when he sees how close he is. He fights himself so he doesn’t move away, because he’s working on it. He stays put, sighing as Seungmin watches with amused puppy eyes as the pink tint on his ears spreads to his neck.

“Don’t be stupid.” he doesn’t mean to say. What was supposed to come out of his mouth was something along the lines of ‘maybe I want to be open’ or ‘I’m starting to think this type of odd is okay,” But it is a work in progress. Minho is getting there, slowly but surely, baby steps.

And he means it. He continues to work on it as the days pass, and his senior showcase draws near. They get even closer to the end of the school year, with just a week left until their friend groups last summer at the same high school. 

The weekend before the performance, the eight of them hit the mall, each of them with money from their parents and part time jobs on standby, soon to be spent on stupid shit like anime t-shirts and rockstar merch. 

They are leaving Hot Topic, heading to a popular store Jisung and Chan love to visit, usually for things related to their creative minds, which have more musical notes than communication waves.  

Hyunjin and Felix are discussing which stores sell the best clothes suited for dancing, Changbin is riding on Chan’s back, and Jisung is making Jeongin hold hands with him as they continue through the busy mall. They aren't the only group of teenagers out that lively Saturday, but they are definitely the loudest. 

Seungmin and Minho stay caught in the middle of the chaos, tossing slick comments back and forth like they always do. Somewhere between one joke and the next, Seungmin starts bumping their shoulders together for no apparent reason, and every time he does, Minho’s stomach swoops in the dumbest way possible.

‘Now is your chance.’ Something in Minho’s brain whispers to him, quietly. It’s a growing voice, a growing urge to express himself better and reciprocate his feelings in a way a normal person who feels this way should be capable of. 

He tries—really, he does—to think about how best to express his interest, but it’s difficult when Seungmin smells like the lavender perfume he definitely stole from his mom. It comes in little waves every time he moves, distracting Minho from literally every coherent thought in his head.

It’s simple for Seungmin. It should be simple for him too, right?

So, without giving it much more thought, Minho bumps his shoulder back into the younger boy with a small smile tugging at his lips—promptly forgetting that Seungmin is built like a decorative house cat.

Seungmin goes stumbling dramatically to the right at the impact, nearly eating pavement before Hyunjin—who is walking beside them—catches him by the arm and steadies him.

He whips around to stare at Minho with wide, deeply offended eyes, as Minho has just committed some unspeakable act of betrayal. You would have thought Minho knocked his sanrio hair clips out with the way he was looking at him.
Minho should probably apologize. Instead, one look at Seungmin’s flabbergasted expression sends laughter bursting straight out of him, loud and ugly and entirely from the gut.

He knows Seungmin is practically married to the treadmill whenever they all go to the gym, but Minho had barely touched him, for crying out loud. This level of dramatics feels excessive.

Seungmin straightens again, shoving at Minho’s shoulder, which doesn’t budge him unlike how Minho’s affection sent Seungmin soaring. Minho is still laughing under his breath, trying to catch his composure while Seungmin is cheesing next to him. 

A few seconds pass as they travel, and Minho grows quiet. It occurs only after Seungmin stops colliding with him that he might have set them back, again. That Minho’s approach to romance is flawed, too aggressive, not romantic enough. 

Suddenly, the butterflies in his stomach die and disintegrate, and he wants to go home. Because he doesn’t know how to fix his flawed flirting, and his way of mending the hole between them was supposed to be by doing better.  But he’s yet again fucked it up. And his own incompetence is ruining his mood.  

He nearly lets his loss of confidence drive him to search for an excuse and open the uber app, before something bony and long nudges his hand. He almost thinks it’s a wire or something, before that something bony scoops Minho’s hand into itself. He recognizes it to be Seungmin’s hand, and the seniors heart stutters at the show of affection.

Of course.
This is Seungmin. Annoying, stubborn, petty, persistent little Kim Seungmin. And Seungmin doesn’t want a better boy. He wants this boy to be better. That’s why they are in this situation in the first place. Minho’s heart calms at the thought, his mind steadying. He suppresses a smile, ignoring the burning of his face as he slowly adjusts their grip on one another, intertwining their digits. 

There is a stiffness in Seungmin’s wrist though he lets it happen, and a delayed couple of gasps from behind him, like Jeongin and Jisung—who are positioned on their heels with a full view of the scenario—are more surprised at Minho’s reciprocation than at the hand holding in the first place. Nobody says anything for a few moments, if you don’t count Chan, Felix and Changbin’s rowdy rambling in front of them. 

Progress, baby steps. Minho will be that better boy.

The last week of practice flies by, mostly because he’s entertained, trying to cram another year's worth of school into their friend groups last semester together until next year. Minho spends his entire week slacking off in every department except dance, senioritis overtaking him, Chan and Changbin completely as they prepare for their transition to be freshman in college. 

The night of the showcase is there before Minho feels like he’s ready, despite the fact that he knows he’s worked his ass off, and that he’s as prepared as he will ever be. The eight of them are once again at Minho’s house, this time spread out around the place as they get ready for the event. 

A lot of teenage boys would just put on a t-shirt and jeans and walk out of the house, but Minho’s group of friends is quite different. When you're queer in high school, you tend to flock towards others in the category, because the differences sexuality makes is astronomical. 

For example, Felix—who is putting makeup on Seungmin with the help of Minho’s mom—had learned to do makeup from his sisters, and has painted the face of each and every one of them for special events over the past 3 years. Concerts, recitals, plays, performances, and now Minho’s senior showcase.

And the rest of them—adolescent boys who are unusually aware of themselves—like it. Minho sits criss crossed on his moms floor, letting Jisung paint his nails as he sneaks glances up to the bed, where Felix is glittering Seungmin up like a royal high avatar while the medal mouthed boy complains openly, despite allowing it to happen. 

“Why do I have to be dolled up for Minho’s recital? Nobody is going to be looking at me, this is stupid.” he whines, despite the fact that he’s sitting very still for his friend. The nature of the question and what weight it holds makes Minho a bit nervous, his hand stiffening in Jisung’s hold. 

Thankfully though, Felix wastes no time defusing that bomb, snorting. “Please. You know Minho gets intense about performances. If we don’t show up looking at least semi-presentable, he’ll act like we personally sabotaged his artistic vision.”

“You already do that with your faces, so I guess I have to stop being picky.”  Minho adds in, scoffing a laugh. Felix chuckles. “And because our Minnie is dramatic.” 

Seungmin squints. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. If we didn’t put a little effort in, you’d spend the entire car ride talking about how nobody in this friend group respects aesthetics.”

“Because you don’t, put as much makeup on us as you want, but Channie is still wearing sweatpants!” Seungmin pouts, pointing to where Chan is sprawled out on the floor next to Minho and Jisung. He makes a face like he’s offended he caught a stray, before Seungmin’s attention shifts back to Felix.

“And he is going to change them before we leave, of course!” Felix widens his eyes like a warning to Chan, who sighs and rolls over onto his tummy. “Plus..” Felix’s deep voice lowers to something soft and friendly, not that it was ever anything else. “It’s a special night,” Felix hums, leaning back to inspect his work. “Minho’s worked really hard for this. We’re all dressing up because we’re supporting him properly. Also, you’d literally never forgive me if I let you walk into an event looking under-accessorized.”

“Whatever, I still say you're doing a lot of maintenance for us to be crowd sitting..” the boy relents, though he can’t help but brat about it a bit. He is still Seungmin. 

By the time Minho’s nails dry, he feels far more prepared to step onto that stage and mark the start of something new.

Or, at the very least, less likely to wuss out before getting there.

In the hours leading up to his recital, anticipation makes him restless. His legs ache to move, his mind replays the song over and over again, and his hands yearn to reach for Seungmin’s, but only after he’s able to show him that he is no longer scared of the feelings he possesses for him. 

Well, not as scared. But, once again, baby steps. 

Minho’s mom shoos them all out of the house right before they’re about to be late, and she and the boys pile into three different vehicles so that they may be on their way. 

Felix and Hyunjin make very obvious work of shooing everyone away from Minho’s “starter car” as his mom had called it, and assuring that Minho and Seungmin got to ride by themselves. 

Seungmin naturally migrates to Minho’s passenger seat while the older boy stares daggers at his friends, who are giving him dramatic thumbs up and attempting to silently hype him while they are climbing into the van. 

This is how Minho ends up alone with Seungmin, in his car, at night.

With approximately 10 minutes to mentally prepare for displaying his heart in front of his boy crush, and the entire student body. 

Seungmin settles into the passenger seat easily, like he belongs there.

Which, annoyingly, he sort of does.

“You know,” he says while buckling absolutely nothing, “you’ve been oddly tolerable lately. You must be plotting something.”

Minho huffs, starting the ignition.  “If you're so sure I’m plotting, then why are you in my car?”

“Mm.. because you always drive like a hot mom, kind of chaotic and controlled at the same time.” Seungmin teases. They pull out of the driveway, and Minho’s nervousness vanishes despite his padding heart. Of course, how could he forget?

Seungmin was such a loser. Even with the chaos of the house disappearing, he can bring the madness all by himself. 

“That was lame. Never talk again.” Minho says, setting his hand on the gear. He shifts in his seat randomly, because he can feel Seungmin’s whole body facing him, and his stupid puppy doll eyes boring into the side of his face. 

“And then who will sing songs to make you feel better?” Seungmin teases, Minho can hear the shit eating grin on his face. He nearly swerves when Seungmin decides it’s wise to stretch across the arm rest, and try to kiss him, again. 

Baby steps, for crying out loud. 

“Hey— sit the hell down before you get us killed. I’m going to haunt the fuck out of you.” He reprimands, shoving him away. Seungmin clings onto his arm, laughing. Not enough to disturb the vehicle—they both know Minho is a very responsible driver—but enough to disturb the seniors internal systems; enough to make his stomach swoop, and his heart rate speed up. 

“You're so annoying! Sit down and put your seatbelt on.” He chastises. When they make it to a red light, he pushes the younger boy back into his chair, ignoring the medal-filled sunbeam of a smile he’s wearing as he reaches across him, snatching the seatbelt from near the door and plugging it in for him instead. 

When Minho pulls back his arm, Seungmin does not hesitate to grab his hand between two of his, holding it to his chest. Minho’s ears redden unnoticeably in the dark car, his foot slamming too hard on the gas when the light in front of them turns green..

But he doesn’t pull away. 

Seungmin notices—because of course he does—and escalates it, intertwining their fingers. Minho scoffs to try to play it off as something that isn’t making his face excessively hot, but Seungmin only smiles, humming to the music on the radio, dandy as a dandelion for the rest of the car ride. 

Before Minho knows it, he’s receiving a good luck kiss from his mom and pats on his butt and head from his friends. Then, he’s on his way backstage. The makeup and hair crew the school hired doesn’t do much as he’s waiting for his turn to take the floor, Felix having taken his time with the man’s complexion before they left his house. 

He stares at himself in the mirror, the sound of the crowd cheering for one of the students a passive, muffled background; the senior being too absorbed in his thoughts to really notice it. His outfit is special; he’d never admit it outright, but he went the extra mile, asking a favor from Seungmin’s theater friends who work on costumes to make him a Descendants Auradon-inspired jersey. 

Though instead of blue and gold, its purple and gold, Seungmin’s favorite color. And where there would formerly be the Auradon prep crest on the chest and back, there are sewn words instead. “LEE” on the front, and “KIM” on the back. 

It was Minho’s idea, and unfortunately, once the thought entered his brain during practice one afternoon, he couldn’t let it go.

Honestly, the jersey looks good. Really good. For a bunch of high school stagehands, Seungmin’s theater friends seriously know how to sew. Still, the design feels dangerously intimate. Like he’s wearing his heart on his body for everyone to see.

Minho isn’t used to being this exposed. This open. He’s never stepped this far outside his comfort zone before.

Then again, Seungmin has never really allowed Minho to stay as emotionally detached as he pretends to be. Maybe that’s the best thing about him, honestly. Maybe that’s exactly why Minho is doing this in the first place.

One of the performing arts teachers approaches with a gentle hand against his shoulder. “One minute.”

That’s all it takes for Minho to snap out of his thoughts and lock in.  

Right. That’s exactly why he’s doing this, and he’s going to do it well. Seungmin is worth it.

Minho loves every lanky, blunt, petty, noodle-limbed inch of that boy, and tonight, he’s finally going to prove it.

It’s about damn time.

The senior rises from his chair, accepting silent nods and encouraging gestures from the students backstage as he heads toward the opening in the curtains. Hyunjin and Felix are already waiting there, grinning at him like they just successfully talked a teacher out of assigning homework.

Out in the auditorium, applause swells as the previous senior exits the stage.

Minho’s heart pounds violently against his ribs in a way that feels unfamiliar for someone who’s been dancing since before he could walk.

But he knows it isn’t because he’s unprepared, that it definitely isn’t fear of performing. 

“Next dazzling performance of the night,” the announcer calls, “let’s give it up for Lee Minho!”

Minho inhales.

It’s simply because he cares.

Because he’s finally starting to understand that caring this deeply isn’t a weakness, and that allowing himself to do it anyway is power. It’s privilege.

He exhales slowly.

Tonight, he’s going to impress his teachers, destroy his showcase, and most importantly—he’s going to make himself worthy of Kim Seungmin’s heart, no matter how cringey it sounds. 

It’s showtime.

Just a short while before Minho is set to go on stage, Hyunjin and Felix disappear into the crowd, making some claim about having to fix their eyeliner in the bathroom or something. Seungmin couldn’t help but feel like they were lying, but he hasn’t the slightest clue why they would be, so he lets it go.

Especially because every time Seungmin brings it up to one of the other boys, he’s met with casual responses like, “They’re not gonna miss it,” and, “Relax, they’ve only been gone for a little while.”

The complete lack of concern eventually makes Seungmin feel like he’s just being dramatic.

The lights in the auditorium brighten briefly as one of his classmates finishes their solo performance. Applause ripples through the crowd around Seungmin, respectful cheers echoing through the room. He joins in politely, clapping along for the boy onstage.

Mostly because it would be rude not to. In all honesty, though, Seungmin doesn’t care that much. Because Minho’s performance is next. And that’s the only one he really cares to see tonight. 

To Seungmin’s surprise, the lights don’t dim again. Instead, an announcer’s voice echoes through the auditorium, which is strange considering they usually lower the lights before a solo dancer takes the stage.

Seungmin frowns, confusion beginning to twist tighter in his chest when nobody comes out to remove the microphone stand sitting center stage.

Wouldn’t that get in Minho’s way while he’s dancing?

The thought nags at him immediately. Minho is ridiculously particular about performances, and Seungmin knows for a fact he’d be irritated by something unnecessary cluttering the stage—especially if it risked interrupting his choreography.

The boy hums in curiosity, checking the line up for tonight again. He swears Minho was supposed to be next after Theodore Grey. He has read the schedule an unfathomable amount of times in the past 20 minutes out of boredom, so it would only make sense that he has it memorized already. Because Seungmin doesn’t forget lines. 

One of his questions are answered when he tunes back into the show, and a familiar name is announced over the speakers.
“Lee Minho—” he catches, and his stomach does a big swoop even before he sees the older boy walk onto the stage. His clapping intensifies for just a moment, excitement boosting his energy so much that he’s on his feet, applauding and bouncing on his toes with enthusiasm.

He hears his friends laughing behind him, which makes him shift a bit, but he refuses to neglect his elation for the sake of ego. 

His thrill dims significantly, morphing so bewilderingly into confusion that he nearly gets whiplash. Behind Minho, two figures in matching blue and gold jerseys follow the senior onto the stage with vehicle sized grins on their faces, and Seungmin can make out their familiar builds from a silhouette. 

Minho is wearing a purple and gold jersey instead, a shade Seungmin is quite fond of, with the word “LEE” in bold caps on the front. The design of it seems extremely familiar to him for some reason. Still, he can’t put his finger on why.

Minho—for a reason Seungmin can’t seem to understand—approaches the mic. And the younger boy's heart does a thing when, suddenly, the senior's eyes find his, without a moments delay. 

If he wasn’t sure something was going on before, he’s absolutely positive that there is now. They hold contact for a moment, and that’s all it takes for Seungmin’s heart to spam exclamation points like it’s yelling at him to understand something. 

Minho speaks—no—yells into the mic, and its only a few more seconds before Seungmin knows exactly why that damn jersey seems so fucking familiar. 

“Give me a K!” Minho hollers, making the letter with his body as best he can. The crowd—unlike Seungmin—does not question it, and they follow along.
“K!!”

Minho smiles, a huge, catlike grin that he only wears when he’s getting his way, or fucking with people for his own entertainment. “Give me an I!” he continues.
“I!!”

Minho jumps, making the next letter, Seungmin knows what it is before he gets there, but it doesn’t change the look of shock on his doll-like face, or the way his mouth is hanging open. “Give me an M!” 

“M!!!”

Minho points straight at Seungmin, in the front row—where all 8 of them had consistently insisted they sit. Oh, so this was a group effort.
“What does that spell?!”

“KIM!!!!!”

Seungmin’s face and body are so hot he thinks he’s going to pass out, even before Minho’s next words leave his mouth, making Seungmin hide behind his hands in humiliation he almost never feels. “Kim Seungmin.” Minho calls, there’s a pause, like he’s scared of the words about to leave his mouth. In truth—knowing Minho—he likely is. But unusually, he says it anyway, just.. Softer than he started, like it's the most tender and genuine thing that has ever left his mouth.

“I love you.” 

Seungmin’s jaw drops like it's hot, and even after the beat from one of his favorite soundtracks starts, it stays there. 

The beginning notes of “Did I Mention” from the descendents album fill the auditorium, and the younger boys' systems are immediately shocked still. 

“Oh my god.” he barely manages.

Around him, the auditorium erupts.
Not politely, or timidly—undeniable screaming from kids and adults alike. 

Hyunjin and Felix slide into position behind Minho with matching grins, traitors illuminated beneath stage lights, and suddenly, every single detail about the past couple of weeks falls into place.

The practices Minho wouldn’t let Seungmin watch, the time Minho Hyunjin and Felix would coincidently go missing at the exact same time, the whispering, the strange behavior his friends would all exhibit when he asked about Minho’s showcase. It all led up to this.  

The biggest clue Seungmin can’t believe he missed though, was Minho’s recently developed habit of vocal training. Teas and tonics, humming, the singing on the treadmill like it's a military training arc. Minho had been preparing to sing for him, this whole time. Seungmin feels sick in the most joyful way, the feeling is indescribable. 

Seungmin genuinely thinks he’s going to combust the first time Minho points at him before the song even fully begins, winking with both eyes like some cringey love interest from a movie. Still, Seungmin’s heart skips a beat. 

“Oh my god,” Seungmin repeats, weaker this time, sinking slowly back into his chair while the people around him scream.

To his horror, Chan is recording him instead of the stage. Damn traitor, he’s never going to escape this footage. 

He knows he’s gone when Minho starts the chorus. And suddenly Seungmin understands why the microphone had been left out.

“Did I mention—”

Minho points toward the front row again.

“—that I’m in love with you?”

The crowd loses their minds, jumping to their feet, clapping, singing along, cheering during ad libs, and Seungmin doesn’t know what the hell to say. Every movement and sound feels targeted and intimate, and the only thing keeping him from melting is the excitement piercing his heart. 

His vocals—their beautiful, but not perfect—there’s a slight breathlessness to it from the dancing. Little imperfections around the edges—but somehow that makes it worse—more real. Seungmin can physically hear how hard he worked for this. For him.

His entire body burns hot beneath Felix’s glitter and setting spray, and the worst part—the worst fucking part—is that Minho looks fearless now.

Not completely fearless—Seungmin knows him way too well to believe that. But undeniably freer. Like something finally fell loose inside him.

Every movement is bigger now, less restrained than the last. Every grin comes easier than the one before. Even the way he sings feels different, like he’s stopped trying to protect himself from embarrassment and decided Seungmin was worth surviving it instead.

Ridiculous, in all honesty. Just ridiculous. Seungmin told him to do better, to try harder, not to ruin Seungmin in front of every soul in connection to their high school within a 10 mile radius. 

Minho spins perfectly during one of the dance moves, and Seungmin finally catches sight of the back of his jersey.

‘KIM.’ In the same fashion as ‘LEE’ on the front. Gold lettering stitched across purple fabric. The breath is snatched from Seungmin’s lungs so violently he nearly chokes on it. 

It takes everything in Seungmin’s body to steady his spinning head enough to finally move his body with his friends and the crowd around him. Seungmin feels so many complicated emotions, and there’s only a couple of them that accurately match the bright atmosphere around him. 

“I met this boy who rocked my world like it's never been rocked, and now I’m living just for him and I won’t ever stop. I’d never thought that it could happen to a guy like me but now look at what you’ve done, you got me down on my knees.”

Minho actually drops to his knees, giving Seungmin a longing look that's so genuine it feels like he’s just now falling in love. Seungmin doesn’t know what to do with himself, the direct confession he’s receiving is so terribly real and public it's like a fever dream out of some teen romance. 

Seungmin had always known Minho loved dramatically. He just hadn’t realized the older boy was capable of loving loudly. Boy, has he been proven able. 

His lips curl up into an impressed, bright, brace filled smile that seems to only egg Minho on, because his laughter can be heard as he skips across the stage, singing the next lines. 

Every line Minho sings, the crowd sings it back.  Every peace of choreography from the movie, Minho has perfected, and even added his own little twists and flavors to it. Seungmin hasn’t been this excited since the first time Minho let him hold his hand, and as the shock slowly slips from his body, it’s replaced with  delight that has his cheeks hurting and stomach twirling. 

Hyunjin and Felix are as guilty as sinners, joy on their faces that assures Seungmin that they were all too happy to play the roles as Jay and Carlos, acting like Minho’s wing man during the group sections of the choreography, tossing him in the air and mimicking his dance moves with wild enthusiasm. Seungmin feels like a princess watching gestures attempt to swoon him. 

He jumps, claps, and sings along with the song, ecstatic. He’s never felt so loved in his life. Maybe that’s why the crowd begins to fade into background noise, and Seungmin’s visions zeroes in on Minho’s energy filled figure on the stage.

 Undoubtedly, Seungmin is touched. He feels so raw and tender under such a public display of Minho’s attention that the public part stops mattering at some point. Seungmin is his vulnerability point, has been for years, and now, he’s letting everyone see it, without being ready to bolt in the other direction as soon as another soul acknowledges it. 

It’s absolutely mortifying, unreal, abject, but he wouldn’t trade the experience—nor the feeling—for anything. 

The crowd screams when Minho hits the center of the stage again, Hyunjin and Felix dramatically dropping beside him during the instrumental section like dancers in an actual Disney Channel movie. Seungmin laughs helplessly into his hands, shoulders shaking from the force of it. 

“Oh my god,” he says again, because apparently his vocabulary has abandoned him, for better or for worse. 

The younger boy is overtaken by fondness when Minho does a silly little dance in the midst of the song, spinning and kicking like some junior combination of Bruno Mars and Michael Jackson, drawing cheers from the crowd with ease before jumping right back into the closing lyrics. It’s easy to forget how talented Minho is with how nonchalant he tries to be, but during moments like this, it’s plain sight.

Seungmin is losing his mind, he can’t begin to describe his in-glorious radiance.
So he doesn’t, he simply sings, hops, bounces to the beat, and before he knows it the song is coming to an end. 

He expects the three of his friends to finish the song how they do in the actual movie, but to his horror, Hyunjin and Felix leap off the stage and begin approaching the front row. Seungmin knows what it's about immediately, because he knows his friends. He tries to bolt left or right, but Changbin and Chan catch him immediately, treacherously shoving him straight towards Felix and Hyunjin. 

“No—absolutely not, don’t touch me—”  he says as soon as they get their grimey hands on him, not listening to a word he’s saying.
“Let’s go puppy!” Felix says, “Thank us later!” Hyunjin cheers. They pull him towards the edge of the stage, Minho approaching with the mic in his hand. 

“My love is R I D I C U L O U S” Minho spells out, smiling as he watches their friends manhandle Seungmin and lift him onto the stage, while the crowd is singing back to him for the final time. 

“It’s–” he says, tugging the younger deeper onto the stage with him. “RIDICULOUS” the auditorium replies. “Just”
“RIDICULOUS” 

“And I would give my kingdom for just one chance, come on now!” 

The ending notes bust through the speakers of the building, and Minho drops to his knees right in front of Seungmin, looking up at him this time. Seungmin nearly swoons. It’s so cheesy, so cliche, so romcom. It’s so perfect.

“Kim Seungmin.” Minho pants into the mic, and it elicits something hot in the younger boys stomach. “Please, go to prom with me?” he practically begs, not a care in the world for the way Seungmin’s legs are probably about to give out.

There’s gasps, chatter and wolf whistles in the crowd nearby, like a spectacle is being witnessed in the center of a school yard. But all Seungmin can see is Minho. 

Minho, who used the most important performance to re-propose to Seungmin. Minho, who used half his paycheck to buy him flowers. Minho, who uses his free time to prepare meals and drop them off at Seungmin’s job, even though he wouldn’t let Seungmin hold his hand a few weeks ago. 

Minho, who learned how to sing in three weeks and mastered a whole dance number from his favorite movie, just because Seungmin asked him for something bigger—something more cinematic—to be his prom date. 

Honestly, there is only one correct answer here.

“Yes.” he says simply, “Prom with you sounds great, even if you are impossible.” 

The crowd—for what feels like the millionth time tonight—erupts like a trembling volcano. 

Minho sighs in relief, his shoulders dropping and the adrenaline bleeding from his body when he finally gets the answer he’s been fighting for. Just then, Felix approaches from backstage, carrying something hefty and oversized in his arms. Seungmin can’t help but hide behind his hands when he realizes what it is. A Pochacco plushie. His favorite character, that is being delivered in a form that is quite literally almost Felix’s entire body size. 

Minho is smiling, hard and fondly as he hands a gushing, overexcited Seungmin his new stuffy. It’s mortifying how close Seungmin comes to balling his eyes out on that stage; one arm over Minho’s shoulders, the other holding on tightly, clutching his second promposal gift. After all his hard work, Minho’s night was a success. 

The auditorium quiets down eventually in preparation for the next performance. The night is technically only half way over, but while Seungmin’s friends settle back down to watch their other friends perform, he sneaks off into the hallway. Only after sending Minho a message on how to sneak from the auditorium stage using a back door, of course. 

Seungmin is still halfway down the hallway when he sees Minho appear from around a corner. He knows he’ll get to him just fine by walking, but it simply doesn’t seem urgent enough once the senior spots him.

Seungmin picks up speed without realizing it, sprinting down the hallway like a track star, beaming. He leaps onto Minho without a moment's consideration that he is technically taller than the older boy, caught in strong arms as their laughter fills the space around them despite it. 

There’s barely enough time for the older boy to make a startled noise before Seungmin’s arms are around his shoulders and his feet leave the floor entirely. Strong hands lock around Seungmin’s waist, stumbling back a step from the force of it.  Seungmin’s stomach swoons when Minho squeezes him against his body, spinning him around in a circle with whatever remaining energy he has after his performance. 

“You're so crazy, you know that? That really just happened! It was mortifying and grand and great at the same time! I don’t know where the hell to even begin!” Seungmin’s hands are in his head as soon as Minho sets him down.

“Calm down before you have an aneurysm.”
“I can’t! You were so cool!”

Minho’s smile is soft as he watches and listens to Seungmin rant about how unreasonably awesome his performance was. How much it touched him, how proud of Minho he is. His energy overflowing from his body like it does before or after a play. 

“So you liked it?” Minho tries to tease, but his voice cracks, and that’s all it takes to give him away. Seungmin quiets, observing the other boy silently for a couple of seconds. Minho hates when he does this. It’s feels very raw and transparent, so it always makes him feel extremely naked. 

Usually when it happens, he’ll look away, walk away, or shove Seungmin so that he’ll stop. But he feels a lot more mature tonight. A lot stronger, a lot more capable of acknowledging how he feels. 

He manages it for all of three seconds, before Seungmin is silent for too long, and suddenly his strength leaves him when they gaze for too long into each other's eyes. 

Seungmin melts when Minho whips around, holding back a sob as he averts his gaze anywhere but at his crush, standing in front of him, basically poking at his heart. It’s been a long night, an even longer couple of weeks to end his senior year. Minho has a lot of big feeling that are up in the air, inflating after he’s fought to not suppress them since his talk with Jungkook. 

His senior year is over, so is his childhood, and all he has left is prom with his friends. Beneath the laser focus on he’s had on his senior showcase, he’s been very aware of it for a while now. They both know it. 

“You must be tired.” Seungmin says, simply, softly. “It’s scary to be delicate, right? But it’s also really rewarding, although I’m sure you know that now though. On the bright side, now that you're willing to let yourself fall, I can catch you.”
For some reason, that’s all it takes. 

Minho turns his whole body away as tears begin to stream down his face. He tries to sniff and hold them back—crying in front of people is a lot harder than performing in front of them to Minho—so this is one habit he can’t seem to let go of. Not now—or yet—at least.

But Seungmin is there, arms wrapping around his shoulders again, face buried in Minho’s neck until they're close enough for the rhythm of their hearts to sync up. They hold each other like that for a while, and it is the most secure and steady Minho has felt in a while. 

He thinks—after all this time and effort—he realizes why feeling is so important.
What would he be without it, anyways? Where would they be? He’d rather be delicate inside than dead, and it took him this long to realize  how relevant that detail is. 

Silence sets over them comfortably, and Minho would have classified this moment as intimacy, if KIm Seungmin didn’t ruin it with his huge fucking mouth. 

“By the way, Minho. After that proposal, I think you’d have to kill me before I missed prom with you. I’m playing the tape of you at our wedding in 10 years. And we have to wear purple to prom.”

Minho’s heart stutters, but he ignores it in favor of shaking his head and scoffing a laugh. 

“Shut the hell up, Kim Seungmin. Before I change my mind.”

Seungmin only giggles.

Baby steps.