The bar lights cast a glow over the bright blue billiard table, the color popping against Mingyu’s half-zipped red jacket resting on his shoulder. His grip on the cue stick was steady, his posture sharp — like this wasn’t just a game, but something more deliberate.

On the other side of the table stood a girl who looked way too confident for someone who had never held a cue stick in her life.

“So… I just hit the ball, right?” she asked, spinning the cue like it was some kind of magic wand.

Mingyu raised a brow, holding back a grin. “If you hit it like that, the ball’s gonna fly, you know.”

“Well, maybe it’ll hit you instead,” she shot back with a smirk.

He chuckled, lowering his cue. “You sure you wanna try?”

“Very sure. I learn fast.”

A second later, clack! — the cue ball shot off completely the wrong way and rolled straight off the table. She blinked, stared at it for a moment, then looked back at him without a hint of guilt.

“So that’s… normal, right?”

Mingyu pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. “You didn’t even hit the target ball.”

“But I hit the floor. That’s progress.”

“Progress for who?”

“For me. At least I didn’t break the table,” she said casually, leaning her elbows against the edge of the table, eyes locked on him.

He looked at her for a long moment before a slow smile crept across his face — the kind he couldn’t hide even if he tried. “You know, you might be more dangerous than this cue stick.”

“I know,” she replied easily. “At least I don’t roll off the table like your ball.”

And that night, under the neon lights and the uneven sound of clacking billiard balls, Mingyu realized — it wasn’t the game that brought him there. It was someone who didn’t even know how to play it.