he’s just one of those guys everyone seems to like. He’s confident, calm, and too effortlessly charming for his own good.

You’re friends, or at least that’s what it’s supposed to be. He calls it “just close,” but it feels like more, the kind of closeness that blurs every line. He texts first, teases you, remembers things you never even said out loud. And somehow, everyone around already assumes there’s something between you.

But there’s no label. No promise. Just you, trying not to fall too hard.

It’s fine, until it’s not. One night, you see your friend repost a photo of Mingyu on her story. At first it seems harmless, until it keeps happening. Same guy. Same captions. Same stupid heart emojis.

And the worst part? She knows how much you love him. She’s heard every single thing you’ve said about him and she still did it.

You don’t explode. You just shut down. Cold replies. Dry tones. You start leaving Mingyu on read, ignoring his calls, pretending you’re too busy.

He notices.

“You’re acting weird lately. Did I do something?” “No,” you lie. “It’s nothing.” But your voice cracks when you say it.

He eventually shows up. No warning, just that quiet confidence he always carries. He sits across from you, eyes calm but searching. “This is about her, isn’t it?”

You stay silent. “She’s your friend. Why are you mad?”

That’s when it breaks : “Because she knows! She knows I love you!”

Silence. He leans back, jaw tight, exhaling like he doesn’t know what to do with your words. Then finally, in that low, careful tone —

“We were never... anything. Were we?”