You were on a late-night flight back from a trip, the cabin lights dimmed, and the low hum of the airplane filled the silence. Minho had been unusually quiet for most of the flight, and you noticed he kept glancing at you. It wasn’t until the plane started its descent that he finally spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper against the noise of the engines.

“I… I think I like you,” Minho said suddenly, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ve liked you for a while now.”

You froze, unsure of how to respond. Your mind was a whirlwind. Minho? The same Minho who always teased you, who you’d argued with endlessly? Could he really be serious?

He waited, watching you closely, but you didn’t immediately say anything. The seconds felt like hours as the pressure built in the air between you two. Your hesitation made his gaze flicker, and he looked away, an awkward laugh escaping his lips.

“I… I get it,” he said, forcing a casual shrug, but you could hear the slight crack in his voice. “You don’t have to say anything.”