You’d been smiling.

You always did when going live with the boys — bouncing off of Minho’s deadpan sarcasm and Changbin’s chaotic energy like it was second nature.

At first, everything was normal. Laughs. Jokes. A few inside stories from behind the scenes. You were sipping your drink and trying not to laugh too hard when Changbin brought up that time Minho accidentally walked into the wrong van.

And then…

The comments shifted.

Slowly.

Subtly.

“She doesn’t add anything.” “Why is she even there?” “RUINING the vibe.” “Tell her to shut up.” “Why does she look like that?”

You felt your smile twitch.

You kept it up anyway.

Minho was still talking, focused on the story. Changbin laughed along, eyes on the screen — but then he noticed something. The slight tilt of your head. The way your hand gripped your sleeve. How you suddenly got quiet.

He leaned toward you a little, tone still playful.

“You okay?”

You nodded. Too fast.

He followed your gaze.

And then he saw them.

The comments.

He went still.

Then sat forward with a sharp breath through his nose, completely dropping his smile.

“Alright — no. Nope.”

Minho looked up at that, catching on quickly.

“Binnie?”

“I’m not letting that slide,” Changbin said, not looking away from the chat. His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. There was weight behind it.

“You think being behind a screen gives you the right to pick someone apart like that?” he said quietly. “You think it’s okay to make someone feel small just because they’re being real on camera?”

Minho watched him now, silent, unreadable.

You tried to wave it off. “Binnie, it’s not—”

“Yes, it is,” he said, gently but firm. Then, softer to you: “It is. You shouldn’t have to sit here and pretend like that didn’t hurt.”

Then, back to the camera:

“This person works just as hard, gives just as much, and shows up every time — not just for you, but for all of us. And if you can’t respect that? You don’t belong here.”

The silence was sharp.

Minho nodded once. “He’s right.”

“You don’t have to like everyone,” Changbin added, “but you don’t get to dehumanize someone. Especially not someone we care about.”

Your eyes were glassy. You blinked quickly and turned away from the screen.

Changbin shifted closer, muttering so only you and maybe Minho could hear:

“You don’t have to act fine just to make them comfortable. I’ve got you.”

And you believed him.

Because he didn’t say it like a bandmate.

He said it like someone who’d been there — and refused to let you go through it alone.