Off limit President || Yungi

- nine -

Yunho || Mingi 

I lay awake on the couch all night, staring at the ceiling, feeling the sharp sting of rejection and the heaviness of unkind words. 

The couch was lumpy and uncomfortable, and every time I shifted, the springs poked at me. 

Mingi had made it clear he didn't want me to act like his boyfriend in front of his friends. It was embarrassing, he said, because I was just a nerd. 

His friends, Wooyoung, San, and Jongho, had thrown mean comments my way, calling me boring. To top it off, my mom had called, worried about me, and I'd had to lie to her while Wooyoung watched, smirking.

I couldn't sleep, so I decided to get up and make breakfast. 

Maybe I could show them my heart through the food I made. The kitchen was dark and quiet, but I moved around it with a purpose. 

The cold tile floor sent chills up my legs as I stepped on it barefoot, but I ignored the discomfort, focusing on my task. 

I turned on the small light above the stove, casting a warm glow over the counters and giving the room a cozy feel.

I started by chopping vegetables. 

The rhythmic sound of the knife on the cutting board was oddly soothing, each chop a tiny release of the tension coiled inside me. 

I diced onions and peppers, their fresh, sharp scent filling the air and making my eyes water slightly. 

Next, I sliced mushrooms, their earthy aroma mixing with the other smells, creating a symphony of scents that began to awaken my senses.

I moved on to the eggs, cracking them into a large bowl and whisking them until they were fluffy and light. 

My arm began to ache, but I kept going, wanting to make sure they were perfect. As I whisked, I thought about how much I loved cooking, how it was a way for me to express myself and show my love. 

I hoped that maybe, through this breakfast, Mingi and his friends would see that.

I poured the eggs into a hot pan, watching as they began to set, the edges curling up slightly and turning golden. 

I added the vegetables, folding them in gently, creating a colorful, inviting omelet. The smell was incredible, and for a moment, I allowed myself to feel a small spark of pride.

Next, I prepared the pancakes. I mixed the batter carefully, making sure there were no lumps, then ladled it onto a hot griddle. 

The pancakes sizzled as they hit the surface, tiny bubbles forming and popping on the surface. I watched them closely, waiting for the perfect moment to flip them. 

As they cooked, I washed and sliced fresh berries, arranging them in a bowl with a generous dollop of whipped cream.

I moved on to the bacon and sausages, laying them out on a baking sheet and sliding them into the oven. 

The smell of the meat cooking soon joined the mix, a rich, savory aroma that made my mouth water. 

I prepared the hash browns next, shredding potatoes and pressing out the excess moisture before frying them in a pan with a bit of oil. They sizzled and popped, turning golden and crispy.

Finally, I turned my attention to the pastries.

 I had gotten up extra early to bake them, and now they were ready, golden and flaky. I arranged them on a plate, adding a dusting of powdered sugar for a final touch. 

Each dish was a testament to my effort and love, every detail attended to with a painstaking thoroughness. 

I even packed some of the soup into containers, setting them aside for Mingi 's friends to take home, hoping to send them off with a piece of my heart.