Kim mingyu

The rehearsal room was thick with tension. The mirrors reflected twelve faces — tired, determined, and somewhere between exhaustion and frustration. But all eyes avoided the two of you.

You and Kim Mingyu, both standing on opposite sides of the room, refused to look at each other. The air between you had been sharp for weeks — ever since that argument during choreography practice.

No one really remembered how it started. Maybe it was Mingyu’s teasing, or maybe it was the way you snapped back one too many times. What mattered was that now, the once effortless rhythm between you had turned into a silent battle.

The other SEVENTEEN members noticed, of course. But true to their nature, they didn’t take sides.

“Let’s just focus on the performance,” said S.Coups, his tone calm but firm. Everyone nodded — even Mingyu, though you could feel his eyes flicker toward you for a split second before he looked away.

Days turned into weeks, and the tension never fully faded. On stage, though, it was different. When the music started, professionalism took over. You danced in perfect sync, every move sharp, every breath timed — two rivals forced into harmony.

Offstage, silence. Onstage, perfection.

Then came the night of the Seoul concert — the biggest of the tour. Suddenly your in ear pieces stopped working you couldn’t hear the commands the tact the music anything.