By the time the news broke, no one was surprised.

SEVENTEEN had always moved like a unit, but some pairs carried a different kind of gravity. When Calvin Klein announced you and Mingyu as global ambassadors, fans called it inevitable. Power and precision. Height and edge. Leader energy without titles.

You weren’t just the maknae—you were the one who knew exactly who you were.

⸻

The New York studio was bright, clean, controlled. You walked in beside Mingyu, matching strides, matching presence. Stylists paused. Staff glanced up. Cameras were already pointed in your direction.

Mingyu adjusted his jacket once, then looked at you. “Same plan as always?” he asked.

You smirked. “Don’t miss.”

He laughed softly. “Never do.”

There was no nervous energy, no need for reassurance. You’d shared stages, world tours, award shows. A photoshoot was easy.

The first look was stripped back—black denim, white cotton, nothing unnecessary. Calvin Klein understood idols like you: confidence didn’t need decoration.

“Stand close,” the photographer said.

You didn’t think about it. Mingyu’s shoulder brushed yours naturally, his arm relaxed at his side. You tilted your head slightly, gaze sharp and unreadable. He looked forward, calm, grounded—like the world had already adjusted itself around him.

Click. Click. Click.

“Perfect,” someone whispered behind the monitor.