Why me? >Woosan<

1.

"So as you know, Ateez is having a concert next weekend and guess what guys!" Minji was practically bouncing out of her chair, her voice carrying over the quiet clink of cups around the café.
"I got us tickets!" she squealed, eyes sparkling as she slapped her phone on the table like proof. "VVVIP! I won them on a radio show and I could pick who to bring, so obviously, we're all going." She clapped her hands like a kid at Christmas, completely oblivious to the heads turning at her volume.

I blinked, still processing. VVVIP? Was that even a real thing?

We sat in our usual spot at the small café near campus, tucked into a corner booth that smelled of coffee beans and cinnamon rolls. It was the kind of place that felt safe, like home, and the four of us had practically claimed it as ours. Me, Minho, Jun, and Minji, friends since elementary school, bonded forever after Minji had once punched a boy who tripped me in the cafeteria. We'd been inseparable since then, even now in college.

"VVVIP means meet & greet, photos, early entry, the whole thing," Minji gushed, leaning across the table as if we weren't already inches from her excitement.

I nodded along, pretending I knew what half of that meant. Honestly, her enthusiasm was contagious.

The waitress came over, raising an eyebrow at us with a knowing smile, she'd long since gotten used to Minji's dramatics. Jun ordered his usual latte, Minho went for something iced, and Minji barely paused long enough to request her caramel macchiato before launching right back into how she was finally going to see her bias, Mingi

The following week, Minji spoke about nothing but Ateez.

She had her outfit picked out, a short black dress, chain belt, boots, and, because she insisted it was essential, a cowboy hat. "For Mingi," she declared, sighing dramatically like she was starring in her own drama.

Meanwhile, I quietly blasted Ateez's discography in my apartment, headphones on, neighbors probably wondering if I had suddenly developed a problem. I told myself it was just so I wouldn't feel clueless at the concert, but maybe part of me was caught up in her excitement too.

My apartment was small but mine, kitchen island dividing the living space, one bedroom, one bathroom. I'd moved out for college even though my mom insisted I didn't have to. "Go live your life instead of bothering me," she'd teased before hugging me so tightly I thought she might not let go.

It was quiet most of the time, but with Ateez playing day and night, it started to feel alive.

And then, suddenly, it was the day of the meet and greet.

We'd been standing outside the venue since early morning, Minji dragging us hours ahead of schedule "to feel the atmosphere." The air was crisp, spring sun bright but not too hot, a breeze carrying just enough warmth to remind us summer was coming.

I wanted to complain, but honestly? It wasn't so bad.

Minji had dragged us there hours too early, insisting we had to "feel the atmosphere." Annoying? Yes. Worth it? Probably. She made friends within minutes, bouncing between conversations and taking selfies with new acquaintances. Minho and Jun got roped into learning a fan dance from a group nearby, both of them failing spectacularly, and I laughed until my stomach hurt watching them.

The waiting, somehow, turned into fun.

By the time the doors opened, nerves had set in.

We were ushered down long corridors, staff giving us careful instructions, what to do, what not to do, how the timing would work. Every step closer made my stomach knot tighter.

When our group's turn came, the door opened

And there they were.

The members of Ateez stood in a line, waiting, greeting fans with smiles and bows.

My feet froze. My chest tightened.

"Come on, Woo, it's our turn," Minho hissed, brushing past me.

And of course, I stumbled, nearly tripping right into the room. Heat rushed up my neck as I straightened, praying no one noticed.

But of course they had.

Every gaze flicked to me.

And at the end of the line was him.

Choi San.

Black slacks, black shirt with the top buttons undone, sleeves rolled up. His hair slicked neatly back. His smile sharp enough to disarm.

Gorgeous.

My friends were already greeting the others, bowing, laughing easily. But I was stuck there, blushing like an idiot.

Then San lifted his hand and waved me over.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to move.

"Hi," he said when I reached him. His voice was deeper than I expected. Smooth.

"Hi," I echoed, cheeks burning. He reached out, hand steady, waiting. I took it, mortified at the sweat on my palms.

"Looking forward to the concert?"

"Yeah," I managed. "I...I really am."

His smile brightened. "Good. I'll do my best for you."

I nearly forgot how to breathe.

"By the way, I'm San," he added, leaning just slightly toward me.

Like I didn't already know.

"I'm Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung," I said quickly, eyes fixed somewhere near the floor.

"Nice to meet you, Wooyoung."

When it was time for the photo, I hung back, unsure where to stand.

"Hey," San called, his smile crooked. "Come stand here."

He gestured for me to join him, ushering me close until I stood at his side.

He lifted his hand into a half-heart. I hesitated, then raised mine. Our fingers brushed when they touched, a spark jumping up my arm. My hand trembled, but the camera flashed, capturing the moment.

And just like that, our time was up.

I spoke to the others, tried to steady my nerves, but every time I glanced sideways, San's gaze was still there, steady, lingering.

"I hope you enjoy the concert tomorrow," he said when I bowed to leave.

I nodded, too shy to trust my voice.

Outside, Minji squealed about Mingi and Yeosang, Jun teased her, Minho smirked at me knowingly.

But I was too caught up in the echo of San's voice, too aware of the ghost of his hand still warm against mine.