Chapter Text
Minho stood at the entrance to the massive concert venue, a takeout bag clutched in his hand. He checked the receipt for the hundredth time, trying to wrap his head around it. How was this his last delivery of the night? Some venue food order. He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself. Whoever ordered Chinese takeout at a concert had good taste.
Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he found himself in a long, dimly lit hallway. Voices and muffled music drifted from the distance, and Minho had no clue where he was supposed to go.
"Excuse me?" he called out, his voice echoing slightly. No response.
As he walked down the hallway, he glanced around, looking for some sign of where the dressing rooms might be. The place was a maze. His footsteps quickened as he grew more impatient, but he paused when he heard the sound of someone breathing heavily—uneven, labored breaths, coming from behind the door to his left.
He hesitated. "Uh, hello?" Minho knocked gently.
Nothing but heavy breathing answered him. He frowned and pushed the door open just enough to peer inside.
A guy sat slumped against the wall, clutching his chest, his face pale and contorted in distress. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his whole body seemed to tremble. He was clearly panicking. Minho's first instinct was to step back, but something about the scene tugged at him. The guy looked scared out of his mind.
"Hey, are you okay?" Minho asked softly, stepping inside, but the moment he spoke, the man jerked his head up, eyes wide and frantic.
"Stay away from me!" the man shouted, scrambling back into the corner like a wounded animal.
Minho raised his hands in surrender, dropping the takeout bag on the ground. "Woah, woah, I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. I just—I'm delivering food."
The man's breathing quickened, his hands shaking as he pointed a trembling finger at Minho. "Y-you’re lying… I know what you're doing." His voice wavered, desperate and terrified. "I've had stalkers before. People like you—they act innocent, but you're just trying to get close."
Minho blinked, feeling a sudden, sinking understanding. He didn't know much about idols, but if this guy was a famous soloist, it explained why he seemed so panicked. Maybe people had crossed boundaries in the past. He took another step back to show he meant no harm.
“I swear, I’m not one of them. I didn’t even know who you were.” Minho’s heart raced, sensing the man’s rising panic. "I’m just a delivery guy. That’s all."
The man’s eyes darted to the takeout bag, then back to Minho, as if unsure whether to believe him or not. Minho felt a rush of sympathy—this guy must’ve dealt with some serious creeps if he thought a random delivery guy was after him.
"I don’t even know your name," Minho continued softly, hoping to calm him down. "Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll... I’ll prove it to you."
Minho hesitated for a moment, then without thinking twice, he pulled his phone from his pocket. With one fluid motion, he hurled it at the nearby wall, the screen shattering on impact. The loud crack startled both of them, but Minho kept his hands raised, palms facing outward.
"See?" he said, voice still gentle. "I'm not filming you. I’m not trying to hurt you. I don’t need my phone to do my job, but if it makes you feel safe, I’ll do whatever it takes."
The man’s breathing slowed a fraction, his wide eyes flickering between Minho and the broken phone on the ground. For a moment, neither of them moved. The tension hung heavy between them, but the fear in the man’s eyes was no longer as sharp, slowly dulling into confusion.
“You—" The man swallowed hard, his voice hoarse from his earlier shouting. “Why would you…?”
Minho crouched down cautiously, making sure to keep his movements slow and non-threatening. “Because you’re scared, and I don’t want you to be. I know I don’t understand what it’s like to be in your position, but no one deserves to feel like they’re in danger.” He gestured to the shattered phone. “I don’t care about that. I care about making sure you’re okay.”
There was a long silence before the man’s lips parted again. “Jisung,” he murmured softly, as if testing the name out loud. “My name’s Han Jisung.”
Minho gave him a small, tentative smile. “Nice to meet you, Jisung. I’m Minho. Lee Minho.”
Jisung didn’t say anything at first. His breathing was still uneven, but he no longer looked like he was ready to bolt at the first opportunity. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure.
"I’m sorry," Jisung whispered, his voice almost cracking. "I just… I’ve had some bad experiences, and I—"
Minho waved off the apology with a shrug. "You don’t need to explain. It’s okay." He tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning Jisung’s face. "Do you want me to stay for a bit? Until you feel better?"
Jisung hesitated, but then he nodded, biting his lip. "Please." His voice was quiet, almost ashamed.
Minho sat down a few feet away from him, leaning his back against the wall. They stayed like that for a while, the tension slowly easing out of the room.
Eventually, Minho glanced over at Jisung, who still seemed shaken but calmer than before. “Is this, like, a normal thing for you?” he asked, voice soft but curious. “The anxiety, I mean.”
Jisung let out a shaky laugh. “Only when I’m not performing. On stage, I’m fine. But... offstage, it’s a mess. I don’t know why.”
Minho smiled sympathetically. “That makes sense. Performing probably gives you a focus.”
“Yeah,” Jisung agreed, his voice faint but steadier now. He glanced at Minho, an appreciative smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks for not freaking out on me.”
Minho chuckled. “No problem. I’d smash my phone again if it helped.”
Jisung laughed, a soft sound that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. It wasn’t much, but in that moment, it felt like progress.
Minho leaned against the wall, his eyes on Jisung, who was sitting across from him, still visibly shaken but no longer trembling as violently. The quiet filled the room as Jisung’s breathing evened out, though there was a lingering unease between them.
Minho not knowing to do next, kept his distance. The last thing he wanted was to make Jisung feel trapped again, but he also didn’t want to leave him alone when he was clearly still rattled.
"Do you, um, want some water or something?” Minho asked, gesturing vaguely toward the door. “I could grab some for you if that helps.”Jisung blinked, his fingers loosening from the tight grip on his knees. He looked up at Minho, then down at the floor, seeming to consider the offer. “Maybe… maybe in a bit,” he mumbled. “I just… I need a second.”
“Take all the time you need,” Minho replied, his tone gentle. He settled back, giving Jisung the space he needed while staying close enough to be there for him.
For a few minutes, they sat in silence. The tension in the room was still palpable, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as before. Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his breathing steady but shallow.
Minho, feeling the need to break the quiet without pressuring Jisung, cleared his throat.“So, uh… you’re a performer, right?” he asked, trying to start a light conversation.
Jisung flinched slightly at the question but nodded. “Yeah. I sing,” he answered quietly. Minho nodded back, wanting to keep things casual.
“That’s cool. I’m more of a terrible shower singer myself, but I admire people who can actually do it well.” He smiled, hoping to coax a little warmth out of Jisung, but Jisung just offered a small nod in return.
Still, Minho pressed on. “Is it, like, solo stuff or are you in a group?”
Jisung hesitated again before answering, “Solo. Just me.” His voice was still shaky, but the way he said it made it clear that his career was important to him, even if it came with a lot of pressure.
Minho tilted his head slightly. “That’s gotta be a lot, huh? Being on stage in front of so many people. It must be... intense.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “Does that ever get easier?”
Jisung looked up at him, eyes wide and a little surprised. “On stage?” He paused for a second and then shook his head, his expression softening. “On stage, it’s different. It’s like everything else fades away. I don’t know how to explain it, but... it feels safer there, somehow.”
Minho nodded slowly. “That makes sense. Kind of like you’re in your element, right? Like that’s where you belong.”Jisung met Minho’s gaze for a moment, the corners of his lips turning up slightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly.”
Minho leaned back against the wall, letting the words hang between them. He wanted to ask more about how Jisung felt offstage, but something in Jisung’s posture told him that it wasn’t the right time to push. So instead, he shifted the conversation.
“Well, for what it’s worth,” Minho began, keeping his tone casual, “you’ve got guts. I couldn’t even imagine being in front of all those people. I get nervous ordering at drive-thrus sometimes.”
That caught Jisung off guard. He glanced at Minho with a bewildered look, and before he could stop himself, a small chuckle escaped his lips. “Ordering at drive-thrus?”
Minho grinned, nodding dramatically. "Oh, you have no idea. The anxiety of speaking clearly, getting the order right, and then the pressure when they ask you if you want fries with that. It’s too much.” Jisung’s small chuckle turned into a real laugh, and Minho felt a sense of relief.
“That’s ridiculous,” Jisung muttered, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “But thanks. For, uh, being here. I guess it’s kinda stupid that I freaked out like that.” Minho shook his head quickly. “It’s not stupid at all. You don’t have to explain anything.” He paused, then added more softly, “Everyone’s got their stuff, you know?”
Jisung looked at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze back to the floor. “Yeah. I guess so.”
There was a comfortable pause, but this time the silence wasn’t so heavy. It felt like they were slowly finding a rhythm with each other, the initial panic beginning to subside. Minho, sensing that Jisung was calmer now, decided to shift the focus a bit more.
“So, besides performing, what do you do for fun?” Minho asked. “I mean, when you’re not being, you know, Han Jisung, the world-famous idol?”Jisung blinked, a little caught off guard by the casualness of the question.
“Uh... I guess I don’t have a lot of free time,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m usually busy with music or... well, more music.”
“Right, but everyone has to do something to unwind, right?” Minho pressed, his tone light and teasing. “There’s gotta be something.”Jisung thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “I like gaming sometimes. When I can.”
“Now we’re talking,” Minho said, his eyes lighting up. “What kind of games?”
“Mostly RPGs,” Jisung replied, sounding a little more animated now. “It’s... it’s kind of like an escape, I guess.”
Minho nodded, his expression softening. “Makes sense. You get to be someone else for a while. That’s the best part about games.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Jisung said, a small smile appearing on his face. “I guess I never really thought about it like that, but... yeah.”
They continued talking for a while, and the more they spoke, the easier it became for Jisung to relax. They talked about random things—games, movies, even food—and though Minho could sense there was more going on beneath the surface, he didn’t push. He just let the conversation flow, keeping things light and easy.
Eventually, after a long stretch of silence, Jisung looked at Minho with a hesitant expression. “What about you? What’s your deal? I mean, you don’t seem like just a delivery guy.”
Minho chuckled, a little taken aback by the question. “Well, I’m not exactly living a glamorous life like you,” he said with a shrug. “But yeah, I’m just trying to figure stuff out, I guess. Doing odd jobs here and there, trying to make ends meet.”
Jisung tilted his head, clearly intrigued. “What do you want to do?”Minho scratched his head, looking thoughtful. “I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “I’ve been kind of drifting for a while, you know? But I’m hoping to find something that sticks.”
Jisung nodded, and for a moment, Minho thought he might say something more, something deeper, but instead, Jisung simply said, “That sounds... nice, actually. Figuring things out without too much pressure.”
Minho smiled at him, sensing the walls Jisung still kept up. He wasn’t ready to open up about certain things, but that was okay.
Jisung had calmed down a lot by now. His breaths were steady, and though there was still a bit of hesitation in his eyes, he seemed more at ease in Minho’s presence. The conversation had shifted to more mundane topics, and Minho noticed that the more random they talked, the more comfortable Jisung became.
“So, what’s your favorite takeout?” Minho asked, breaking the comfortable silence with a smile.
Jisung blinked, looking at Minho as if he’d asked the most random question in the world. “Takeout?” he echoed, before letting out a soft chuckle. “Well, I guess... I’m always a sucker for fried chicken. It’s, uh, sort of my guilty pleasure.”
Minho grinned. “Fried chicken, huh? That’s a solid choice. No judgment there. I think it’s one of those things that’s impossible not to love.”
Jisung nodded. “Yeah, but I can’t eat it too much because, you know... it’s not exactly idol diet material.” He said the last part with a small, almost embarrassed laugh.
Minho gave a playful look of disapproval. “That’s rough. I don’t think I could give up fried chicken for anything. You’ve got some serious willpower.”
“Not as much as people think,” Jisung muttered, half under his breath. Then, catching himself, he quickly changed the subject. “What about you? What’s your go-to?”
"Definitely Chinese food,” Minho answered without hesitation. “That’s why I was pretty stoked when I got this delivery job. Free food sometimes, you know? Perks of the job.”
Jisung smiled, a bit more relaxed now. “I guess that would be a good perk.”
There was a brief lull in the conversation, but it wasn’t awkward this time. Minho had a natural way of making the space between words feel calm, not heavy.
Jisung found himself watching the way Minho seemed at ease, and for the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like he had to force himself to say something just to fill the silence.
“So, uh,” Jisung said after a moment, shifting a little on the couch, “what got you into delivering food? It doesn’t seem like the kind of job you’d stick with for long.”
Minho shrugged, leaning back against the wall with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s not exactly my dream job or anything. But it pays the bills for now, and it gives me some flexibility while I figure things out.”
Jisung tilted his head. “What are you trying to figure out?”
Minho thought about that for a second, then laughed a little awkwardly. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve been bouncing between things for a while. Tried working at a café, then some freelance gigs here and there. It’s been... a lot of trial and error, I guess.”
Jisung frowned slightly, looking at him with curiosity. “That sounds exhausting.”
“It can be,” Minho admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s also kind of freeing, in a way. I’m not tied down to anything yet, you know? I get to explore, see what fits.”
Jisung nodded slowly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of freedom,” he said quietly. “Ever since I was a trainee, my whole life’s been about the next performance, the next album. It’s like... everything is always planned out for me.”
Minho’s gaze softened as he watched Jisung. There was a weight in his words that Minho could feel, though Jisung spoke as if it were something normal—like the constant pressure was just a part of his existence.
“That sounds... intense,” Minho said after a pause. “I can’t even imagine.”
Jisung shrugged, but there was a small edge to it, like he was trying to brush it off. “It’s just the way it is. I don’t really think about it much anymore.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
Jisung hesitated, then shook his head. “I mean, I do, but it’s... complicated.”
Minho could tell Jisung wasn’t ready to dive deeper into that topic, so he didn’t push. Instead, he shifted the conversation again, keeping the tone light.
“Okay, let’s switch gears. If you weren’t doing music, what do you think you’d be doing?”
Jisung blinked at the sudden question, looking almost surprised. “If I weren’t... doing music?”
“Yeah, like, if you weren’t this big superstar,” Minho said, leaning forward a bit. “What do you think you’d be doing with your life?”
Jisung thought about it for a moment, his expression contemplative. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Music’s been everything for as long as I can remember. I guess I never really thought about what I’d do if it wasn’t an option.”
Minho nodded, watching him closely. “But, like, if you had to pick something else. What would you want to try?”
Jisung glanced up at Minho, his lips curving into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think I’d want to be a writer,” he said softly, surprising himself with the confession. “I used to write a lot when I was younger. I liked creating stories.”
Minho’s eyes widened a bit. “A writer? That’s pretty cool. You still write?”
Jisung shook his head, looking a little embarrassed. “Not really. I don’t have time for it anymore.”
“That’s a shame,” Minho said thoughtfully. “You should try to find time for it. I bet you’re good at it.”
Jisung glanced at him, surprised by how genuine Minho sounded. “You don’t even know me,” he said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“True,” Minho admitted, flashing him a grin. “But I’m a pretty good judge of character.”
For a brief moment, Jisung felt something loosen in his chest, like the tight knot that had been there since his panic attack was slowly starting to unravel. He wasn’t sure why, but Minho’s easygoing nature made it feel like maybe, just maybe, he could let his guard down a little.
“You really think so?” Jisung asked quietly, not meeting Minho’s eyes.“I do,” Minho said with a nod. “And hey, if you ever need someone to read your stuff, I’m your guy.”
Jisung laughed, a light sound that seemed to surprise even him. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
They continued talking for what felt like hours, covering everything from their favorite movies to embarrassing childhood memories. Minho kept the conversation light and playful, and before long, Jisung had almost forgotten about the anxiety that had gripped him earlier.
Eventually, though, as the night grew later, the conversation began to wind down. There was a comfortable silence between them now, one that didn’t feel awkward or forced.
Jisung glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing how much time had passed. “I should probably... get going soon,” he said softly, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.
Minho nodded, standing up and stretching. “Yeah, I should probably head out too."
Jisung looked at him for a moment. He wasn’t sure why, but something about Minho made him feel like maybe, for once, he didn’t have to handle everything on his own.
They shared a look, something unspoken passing between them. And though neither of them said it aloud, they both knew that this was just the beginning.
As the comfortable silence settled between them, Jisung found himself glancing at Minho. There was something so... easy about talking to him, like it hadn’t been forced or awkward despite how they’d met under such strange circumstances.
“Hey,” Jisung began, clearing his throat slightly, “can I get your number?”
Minho raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips twitching up in a teasing grin. “My number? You do remember that I smashed my phone against the wall, right?”
Jisung blinked, his face flushing slightly. “Oh. Right.”
Minho chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you know, I was thinking... maybe it’s better this way. If we meet again, it’ll be like fate brought us together or something.”
Jisung rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Fate, huh?”
Minho nodded seriously, though his playful expression remained. “Exactly. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”
Jisung laughed softly, shaking his head. “That’s such a weird thing to say.”
“Hey, I like to keep things interesting.” Minho shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. “But I’m serious. If we bump into each other again, maybe it’ll be one of those ‘meant to be’ moments.”
Jisung bit his lip, fighting back a smile. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had made him laugh like this—especially someone he’d just met. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for fate then.”
“Seems like it,” Minho replied with a grin.
There was a soft knock on the door, and Jisung’s attention shifted as one of his managers stepped into the room, looking slightly surprised to see Minho there.
“Jisung, is everything okay?” his manager, Chan, asked, glancing between them.
"Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jisung said quickly, waving a hand. “Just... had a bit of a mix-up.”
Minho straightened up, giving a polite nod to the manager. “I was just about to head out.”
“Are you the food deliverer? Did the food already get paid for?" Chan asked, pulling out a wallet.
Minho waved it off. “It’s already paid for. I think the other manager took care of it.”
Chan nodded, then turned to Jisung. “You sure you’re alright?”
Jisung nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine now.”
Minho glanced at Jisung one last time, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Well, I should get going then. Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Jisung felt a strange pang of disappointment, even though he knew Minho had to leave. He stood up, awkwardly shuffling his feet. “Thanks, Minho. For... everything.”
Minho shrugged, his tone casual but his eyes sincere. “No problem. Just take care of yourself, alright?”
"I will,” Jisung promised, offering a faint smile. Minho gave him a final nod, then headed for the door, giving Jisung a quick wave before stepping out into the hallway.
As the door closed behind him, Jisung found himself standing there, staring at the spot where Minho had been, his heart feeling oddly lighter than it had in a long time.
And even though Minho hadn’t given him his number, there was a small part of Jisung that found comfort in the idea that maybe, just maybe, they’d meet again—like fate, as Minho had joked, would bring them back together.
For the first time in a long time, Jisung felt like he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. He didn’t know what would happen next, but somehow, the thought of running into Minho again felt... hopeful. And that hope was enough for now.