Minho had always been the quiet, reserved type. College was supposed to be a fresh start, but his social anxiety had remained a constant companion. He was excited about the opportunities college offered, but the thought of being in front of a crowd, let alone competing in a stage event, made his stomach turn.
It was his first year at college, and Minho had signed up for a talent competition, thinking it would push him out of his comfort zone. He'd never really been on stage before, and the idea of performing in front of so many people terrified him. To make matters worse, the competition required a catwalk as part of the act. Minho could hardly imagine walking in front of an audience without tripping over his own feet, let alone doing it gracefully.
His friends, seeing his anxiety, suggested he meet with someone who could help. Enter Bang Chan—the senior who was known for his charisma and natural presence on stage. Chan had already won several competitions during his first few years and had a reputation for helping people develop their confidence. Minho had heard of him before, but the thought of meeting someone so confident made him even more nervous.
But at the urging of his friends, Minho agreed. The moment he stepped into the practice room where Chan was waiting, he couldn't help but feel both intimidated and intrigued. Chan was casually dressed in a black hoodie, his hair slightly messy, a friendly smile lighting up his face.
"Hey! You must be Minho," Chan greeted, walking up to him with a warm, open expression. "Don't worry, I've heard a lot about you. We're going to make sure you're ready for this competition. Just trust me, okay?"
Minho nodded shyly, his heart pounding as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. He had expected someone more intimidating, but Chan's easygoing vibe instantly put him at ease, even if it was only a little.
"Alright, let's start with the basics," Chan said, clapping his hands together and stepping back. "I know you're nervous, but we're just going to work on the catwalk. Focus on your posture and how you carry yourself. The rest will come naturally."
As Chan demonstrated the movements, Minho couldn't help but watch closely. Chan moved effortlessly, his confidence shining through with every step. It was hard not to be captivated by how gracefully Chan moved, how comfortable he was in his own skin. It was the kind of confidence Minho had always envied.
When it was Minho's turn to practice, his nerves flared up again. He stumbled slightly, his steps unsteady as his mind raced with self-doubt. But instead of reprimanding him, Chan approached calmly, offering a supportive smile.
"Hey, it's okay. Everyone has to start somewhere," Chan reassured him, his voice soothing. "Take it slow. You've got this."
Minho nodded, trying to focus on his breathing and listening to Chan's instructions. Slowly, with Chan's patient guidance, Minho started to improve. The steps became smoother, his movements less rigid. But as the minutes passed, something unexpected started to happen—he found himself more and more drawn to Chan. The way he spoke so kindly, how he made Minho feel seen, even when he was insecure—it was hard not to admire him.
After the practice session ended, Chan offered Minho a bottle of water and smiled. "See? Not so bad, right?"
Minho couldn't stop himself from smiling back. "Yeah... Thanks. I didn't think I could do it, but you made it feel easier."
Chan's eyes softened, and for a moment, Minho swore he saw something deeper in his gaze. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.
"Anytime, Minho," Chan said. "We'll keep working on it. I know you'll do great at the competition."
