Unexpected turns

I spent the entire week replaying Minho's words in my mind.

"Go on a date with me."

It echoed in my head like a broken record, and no matter how many times I tried to shake it off, the weight of the question refused to leave.

I had avoided him for two days after the performance. I hid in my dorm room, skipped all my usual hangouts, and pretended that nothing had happened. But the truth? The truth was I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Seojin noticed, of course.

"Hyung," he said one morning, standing in the doorway of my dorm room with his usual smirk. "You've been acting like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?"

I stared at him for a moment, trying to look nonchalant, but I knew I was failing miserably.

"Nothing. Just tired," I said, waving him off.

Seojin didn't buy it for a second. "Oh really? So why do I feel like I'm looking at a man with a massive secret?"

I threw a pillow at him. "Can you not read my mood for once? You're creeping me out."

He dodged the pillow with a grin. "I have an idea. You're thinking about Minho, aren't you?"

I froze.

Seojin raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. His confession, I mean. You've been avoiding him like a plague."

"I'm not avoiding him," I lied, turning back to my desk. "I just don't want to deal with… whatever this is."

Seojin plopped down on my bed, looking at me like I was the most frustrating person in the world. "Haru, do you seriously not get it? The guy likes you. He confessed. Just deal with it."

I turned around to look at him, my fingers rubbing the edges of a notebook absentmindedly. "No. It's not that simple."

"Why?" Seojin leaned forward. "Is it because he's Minho? That arrogant, annoyingly confident guy? The one who always has something to say?"

I nodded slowly, unwilling to admit that part of me had already been affected by his stupid smile and the way he had looked at me after the performance. But Seojin didn't wait for a response, continuing anyway.

"I get it," he said softly, "You hate being vulnerable, Haru. I've known you long enough to know that you don't like to show weakness. You keep everything locked up. But Minho? He sees through that."

"I don't need you psychoanalyzing me right now," I grumbled, but my heart was thudding hard in my chest. "It's not that simple."

But even as I said the words, my mind betrayed me. I couldn't help the flush that rose to my cheeks when I thought about Minho's serious gaze, his calm voice when he'd asked me on that ridiculous date. There was no teasing, no arrogance. Just Minho, asking me to let my guard down. To step into a world where he wasn't the enemy.

And damn it, that thought made me feel like I was falling into some kind of trap.

The next few days passed in a blur. I tried to focus on rehearsals, on my studies, on everything that wasn't Jeong Minho. But everywhere I went, there he was. At the library. In the cafeteria. In the hallways, casually leaning against a locker like he belonged in my life.

And every time our paths crossed, I felt the knot in my chest tighten.

"Sunbae."

I didn't even have to look to know who it was. I was already walking toward the exit of the campus library when I heard his voice, smooth and effortless, cutting through the air.

I paused, but I didn't turn around. "What do you want, Minho?"

There was a brief silence, then his footsteps came closer, and I felt his presence beside me. He didn't speak at first, just stood there, probably watching me with that infuriating calmness of his. And then he did something unexpected.

He handed me a cup of coffee.

My first instinct was to reject it. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like this, but it didn't feel like a simple gesture of politeness anymore. There was something behind it. Something more.

But the coffee smelled good, and despite myself, my hand reached out and took it.

"I thought you might like one," Minho said casually, as if the silence between us didn't exist.

I glanced at him. His gaze was soft, his expression unusually serious.

"You're… persistent," I muttered, clutching the cup between my fingers. The warmth seeped into my skin, but it didn't melt the cold tension in my chest.

He smiled slightly, the familiar teasing gleam in his eyes returning. "Maybe I just like to get what I want."

I narrowed my eyes at him, irritated by how casually he said that, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for someone like him. "What is it that you want, Minho?"

"Answer me," he said, voice suddenly more intense. "Will you go out with me?"

I froze again. His directness hit me like a wave of ice-cold water.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. The strange thing was, I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to brush it off anymore.

But I couldn't just say yes either. Not to him. Not when everything about him felt like a challenge I wasn't ready for.

Minho seemed to notice the hesitation in my eyes, and for the first time, I saw something flicker behind his usual confidence—a hint of vulnerability, something raw. It made the ground feel even shakier under my feet.

"You don't have to answer right now," he said quietly, his voice softening. "Just think about it. No pressure, Haru."

Before I could stop myself, my lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. I was staring at him, trying to understand what was happening, but I couldn't.

Instead, I just nodded awkwardly. "Fine. I'll think about it."

Minho didn't press me further. He gave me one last look—a lingering glance that said more than words ever could—before turning to leave.

I watched him go, his silhouette disappearing around the corner, and felt a strange emptiness settle in my chest.

What the hell was happening?

Later that evening.

I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting my tie for the second time. The campus was quieter now, students retreating to their dorms or heading out to late-night hangouts. The clock on my desk read 7:15 PM. There was a strange restlessness in my limbs, an anxiety I couldn't quite place.

I wasn't even sure why I was going to this party. I told myself it was because I wanted to get some distance from the craziness Minho had stirred up, but deep down, I knew I was just trying to escape the whirlwind in my mind.

The door to my room opened unexpectedly.

"Hyung, you're still getting ready?" Seojin's voice carried through the doorframe, a grin audible in his tone.

I turned around to face him, adjusting my collar in a last-ditch effort to look presentable.

"What's the deal with you today?" Seojin asked, his eyebrows shooting up. "You've been acting like you're about to jump off a cliff. Why are you still moping about Minho? He's not gonna bite you."

I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to face Minho. Or if I was even prepared to admit how much his words had gotten under my skin. There was no part of me that was ready for the weight of his presence, but deep down, I knew I couldn't keep avoiding him forever.

"Let's just go," I said, trying to sound as unaffected as possible. "I'm fine."

Seojin gave me one last knowing look before shrugging. "Whatever you say, Hyung. Let's just go and have some fun. Maybe forget about everything for a bit."

I nodded, grabbing my jacket and heading toward the door.

The night awaited, and no matter what happened, I couldn't ignore the fact that the first chapter of something new had already begun. And whether I liked it or not, Jeong Minho was in the middle of it.