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As a tall and broad-shouldered man, Kim Mingyu was used to stretching his muscles to stay flexible, ensuring he could keep up with the fast and intricate choreography on stage. He had to match the movements of his fellow Seventeen members, most of whom were smaller than him.
But during breaks, Mingyu stretched lazily, sprawling in search of the most comfortable position in the tightest spaces—whether it was the waiting room sofa, a cramped car seat, or even the corner of the practice room.
Seokmin watched him.
No—more than just watched. He observed, completely entranced. As if nothing else in the world existed.
When Mingyu lifted his arms high above his head, the hem of his sweater rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin. Seokmin swallowed hard. The world around him blurred. The chatter of the other members, the faint hum of music playing in the background—none of it mattered anymore.
There was only Mingyu.
Seokmin wondered if Mingyu even realized how effortlessly he filled every space in his heart. Even now, when he let out a deep, tired sigh and collapsed onto the couch as if he had just finished a marathon, Seokmin found himself smiling.
Mingyu’s weary expression tugged at something deep inside him. It told the world that he carried more weight on his broad shoulders than anyone could see. And Seokmin wished—if it ever became too much—that Mingyu would let him share the burden.
Or better yet, let Seokmin carry it for him.
Mingyu shifted slightly, as if sensing Seokmin’s gaze. He didn’t turn to look—just let a small smile tug at his lips.
He knew.
Seokmin always looked at him like this—quietly, fondly. And as always, Mingyu never stopped him.
Because he liked it.
Just like yesterday, Seokmin sat across the practice room, eyes drawn to Mingyu as he scrolled through his phone. The day was ordinary, nothing special. Just another afternoon spent waiting for practice to end.
Then suddenly—
“Hh’tchh! Hh’tchh! Hh’tchh!”
Seokmin’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Mingyu sniffled, rubbing his nose absently, completely unaware of how Seokmin’s fingers had curled into his knees. Another sneeze—soft, small. His nose scrunched up like a kitten’s, his head dipping with each tiny jerk.
Seokmin held his breath.
When Mingyu finally looked up, blinking dazedly, his expression so open and unguarded, Seokmin swore his heart skipped a beat.
Adorable. That was the only thought in his head. If he could, he would have said it out loud—how Mingyu drove him absolutely crazy without even trying.
Seokmin exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay composed.
I want to kiss him. Right now.
Now, Mingyu sat across from him at a table, a pen tucked between his lips as he stared at his tablet in deep concentration. He was working on lyrics, carefully piecing together words that would soon take shape as a song.
Seokmin pretended to focus on his phone, but in truth, he barely looked at the screen.
His eyes were on Mingyu.
Mingyu absentmindedly bit down on the end of the pen, exhaling softly before tilting his head. His fingers tapped the table in a steady rhythm, his lips parting slightly as he worked through his thoughts.
Seokmin swallowed.
It was ridiculous—how something so small, so utterly mundane, could make him feel like this.
Then Mingyu looked up, their gazes meeting. Seokmin startled slightly.
“What?” Mingyu asked softly.
Seokmin only shook his head, smiling.
He didn’t need to explain.
It was enough to know that his whole world was sitting right in front of him.
Lee Seokmin loved to sing. He sang anywhere, anytime. As he walked down the HYBE hallways, as he waited for their car to arrive, as he sat around between schedules. If he wasn’t singing outright, he hummed—a natural melody, effortless yet mesmerizing.
His voice had a way of pulling people in without him even trying. A pure, golden kind of warmth.
And Mingyu?
Mingyu fell in love every single time.
It wasn’t fair. Seokmin never tried to show off, yet every note that left his lips felt like magic. If Mingyu could, he would listen to him forever.
When Seokmin caught him staring, he frowned slightly. “What?”
Mingyu quickly looked away.
Because if he didn’t, he was sure he’d fall even harder.
It wasn’t just his singing. Mingyu found himself enamored with the smallest things Seokmin did—like the way he ate.
Seokmin loved food. He didn’t just eat—he savored every bite. Every meal was met with a satisfied hum, his eyes brightening when he found something particularly delicious.
And Mingyu—
Mingyu had to tighten his grip on his chopsticks just to keep himself together.
He was sure Seokmin had no idea how ridiculously endearing he looked while eating. The way he closed his eyes, the way his face softened with delight, the small noises of pure contentment he made.
It was unbearable.
Mingyu wanted to reach across the table, cup his face, and press an affectionate bite to his cheek.
When night fell, they lay side by side in bed, their bodies naturally gravitating toward each other. The silence between them wasn’t empty—it was warm, filled with quiet understanding. Their breaths rose and fell in sync, as if they had always belonged in this rhythm together.
Mingyu traced slow, lazy patterns along the back of Seokmin’s hand, his fingers mapping every line, every ridge. Without a word, Seokmin turned his palm over, interlacing their fingers—steady, grounding. A silent promise.
There was no need for words. There never was.
Seokmin brought Mingyu’s hand to his chest, letting him feel the steady beat beneath his skin. Mingyu smiled softly, his grip tightening just slightly.
Then, he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Seokmin’s forehead.
It was gentle, unhurried—an unspoken declaration of love.
And as they drifted into sleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth, they knew.
Their love didn’t need to be spoken.
It was already written in every touch, in every breath, in the quiet spaces where words fell short.