The rapid clack of controllers filled Jongseob’s room, neon lights from his gaming PC casting electric blues and pinks on the walls. You were sprawled on his bed, phone in hand, half-watching as Jongseob and Soul shouted at each other over the game.

“Bro, cover me!” Soul yelled, hammering buttons.

“I am covering you!” Jongseob shot back, eyes locked on the screen.

You snickered, tossing a pillow at them. “You two are so dramatic.”

Jongseob glanced over his shoulder at you for a split second, cheeks slightly pink. “It’s because Soul sucks at this game.”

“Shut up.” Soul muttered, laser-focused.

Jongseob leaned back in his chair, tossing his controller onto the desk. “Anyway…” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “You look pretty today.”

Soul paused mid-game, blinking at Jongseob like he’d grown two heads. “Wait—did you just—”

“Shut up, Soul!” Jongseob barked, turning back to the game, ears burning bright red. Jongseob refused to look at you for the next ten minutes—but he played way better after that.