(Based after the tour with Minho, and when you found out you had feelings for him.)

You invaded Q’s dorm. — studying for the test he was SUPPOSED to help you with, he went out… You’re on Q’a bed, has better light and your charger reaches from there. Headphones in, highlighter between your teeth, trying to make sense of the endless pages in front of you. The dorm’s quiet except for the low hum of the radiator and the occasional hallway noise.

Then the door opens.

“Forgot my charger,” Min Ho mumbles, already halfway in. And he sees you, studying. Since when was you STUDYING? He could’ve helped yo- “And- hi.”

You glance up. “Isn’t this your third one?”

“I lose them in my sleep.”

You roll your eyes, pulling out one earbud. “You good?”

“Peachy.” He yanks the cord off his bed and sits down like he’s not planning on leaving. “Q’s out?”

“Yeah. Was supposed to help me with Chem.”

Min Ho nods like that’s exactly what he wanted to hear — or maybe didn’t. You can’t tell.

You put your earbud back in and try to focus. You really try. But it’s impossible when he’s fidgeting, tossing his phone from hand to hand, kicking the side of Q’s desk.

“Can you not?”

He holds his hands up. “Sorry, Covey.”

You throw a pen at him. He laughs. And gives it back to you.

You go back to your work. He goes back to being a distraction.

And then — your phone connects to the Bluetooth speaker without warning. And you hear it. That opening chord. That voice. Gracie Abrams.

“Two Augusts ago, I told the truth, oh, but you didn’t like it, you went home.”

You freeze.

“Wrong playlist,” You say quickly, but you don’t turn it off. Just lets it play, barely looking at Minho, he’s acting all weird.

You swallow, staring at your notes without seeing them. “This is random.”

“Yeah.”

The silence between you is so loud.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he.

But somehow, you’re both aware — painfully aware — of the space between your bodies. The year between now and then. The things never said. The things you wish you could unfeel.

“You know I can help with that- right Kitty?”

“Huh? Oh- yeah… Please.” And he does.

The song keeps going. “You were the best, you were the worst, as sick as it sounds I loved you first.”

You glance at him. His jaw’s tight. Like maybe he knows you’re looking but refuses — to meet your eyes.

He finally whispers, “You really should change the song, doesn’t fit Chemistry.”

Oh but it does fit Chemistry, YOUR CHEMISTRY BETWEEN YOU BOTH. —

You don’t and just yawn.

Minho shifts, leans back on his elbows, and says quietly, “That’s 10 neutral neutrons.”

You don’t answer. You nod and smile..

And when you start fidgeting with your pen, he goes to stop you.. helping you out and his pinky touches you. He just keeps it there.

And for the rest of the song, you sit in silence. Close enough to share a song. Far enough to feel the weight of everything that’s never been said.

And maybe that’s the most honest you’ve ever been.

‘I love you, i’m sorry..’ - Gracie Abrams