You’d loved Stray Kids since the beginning—not casually, not occasionally, but in the kind of way where their music felt like it had grown up with you. Albums, teasers, lightsticks, concerts — you’d lived it all.
But nothing prepared you for Rome.
You were already there on holiday, so when they announced a date… it felt like fate personally tapped you on the shoulder. You bought the ticket instantly, barely breathing, and somehow—you still didn’t understand how—you ended up front row.
The concert was unreal. Lights, screams, the vibration of the bass through your chest—and then the part you always dreamed of:
Changbin coming down from the stage.
He was moving down the barricade, taking videos with fans, smiling, laughing. And then he got to you.
You held out your phone with shaking hands, and he reached for it with that bright, excited grin—
Your screen flickered. Went black.
Changbing blinked, confused. He pressed the side button, tapped the screen.
Nothing.
You felt your heart drop to your stomach. Of all moments… Your eyes started to sting, but before you could look away, he lifted his head.
And gave you a small, almost mischievous smile.
Without saying a word—because the music was too loud—he took his phone from his pocket, leaned in close, shoulder touching yours, and snapped a selfie of you two together. Then he mouthed:
“Instagram?”
You barely managed to say your username over the noise, but he nodded, typing quickly.
And just like that, he had to move on, running back to stage.
Later that night,
back at your Airbnb, your phone finally turned on — overheated from hours under the arena lights. Notifications exploded onto your lock screen, but one made your whole body jolt:
Message request: @jutdwae
It was the selfie.
You stared at it for a full minute. He looked good—too good—and you looked… happy. Radiant, even.
You thanked him. You expected him to stop there.
He didn’t.
He kept replying. Jokes about the concert. Asking if you got home safely. Telling you he hoped you weren’t too upset about the phone moment. Calling you “Rome selfie girl” with a little emoji.
Then more messages the next day. And the next. Little conversations that turned into longer ones. Stories about Rome. Pictures of your holiday. His late-night thoughts when he couldn’t sleep on tour.
You tried not to overthink it. But it was impossible not to feel something.
Then came the night of the live.
You were watching them on VLIVE. The boys were laughing, talking, eating. Changbin was half-lying on the couch, hair messy, hoodie too big on him.
He was on his phone, every now and then reading the comments and answering some questions.
You didn’t think much of it… until your own phone buzzed.
A message. From him. Right as he was on live.
Your heart stopped.
You opened it.
You read.
And you forgot how to breathe.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy… but talking to you every day became the thing I look forward to the most. I don’t even know why I’m texting you during a live, but I couldn’t wait.
I… like you. More than I should.
If that’s too much, I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know.”
On the live, Changbin kept glancing down at his phone. You saw him bite his lip—nervously. Waiting.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaking.