ONE SHOTS🍒| STRAY KIDS

48. In The Details

Ship: MinSung
Top: Minho
Bottom: Jisung
______________________________
Jisung:

There are exactly seven tiles on the floor between my desk and Minho's. I know this because I counted them. Twice. No, actually, it was eight times, but that was because Minho's stupid laugh threw me off around attempt number five.

The laugh happened when he leaned over to whisper something to the girl next to him. A girl who isn't me. A girl with a ponytail so high it looked like it was trying to reach heaven. I don't even know her name. I just call her Ponytail in my head, which is fair because she's not important. Not like me.

Because Minho and I? We have a connection. A cosmic, soul-bonded, Netflix-romantic-comedy kind of connection. The kind where, when I glance at him, he just knows. Like when I looked at him yesterday during lunch, and he smiled. At me. With all his teeth. That was obviously his way of saying, "Jisung, my beloved, let's run away and get married in the nearest IKEA."

Do you see Ponytail getting that? No. No, she's not.

It's during math class that I hatch The Plan. It's capitalized because it deserves respect. Minho has this way of twirling his pen when he's thinking. It's... mesmerizing. Hypnotic. And I may or may not have written 'Lee Minho Han Jisung' across an entire page of my notebook instead of calculating the hypotenuse. Whatever. The point is, I decide that today is the day I'll finally make a move.

The plan is simple: •Follow Minho after class. (Not creepy, just... strategic.)

•Accidentally bump into him.

•Say something charming, like "Oh wow, I didn't see you there," even though I've been watching his every move since he walked into the room.

•Get invited to hang out.

•Eternal love. Probably.

When the bell rings, Minho shoves his books into his bag. I'm two steps behind him because I time my movements with the precision of a trained assassin. Ponytail says something to him, and I swear I almost growl. It's fine. She's probably just asking for help on homework.

He leaves the classroom, and I follow. We turn down the hall, and I can practically see the romantic slow-motion montage forming. You know, like in movies where the main character runs after their love interest? Yeah, that's me. Except my version includes weaving around freshmen who don't know how to walk in a straight line.

I finally catch up, just as Minho's about to go outside. Showtime.

"Hey!" I say, maybe a little too loud. He startles and turns around. Perfect. He noticed me. "Fancy seeing you here," I continue, as if we didn't just leave the same room.

He raises an eyebrow. "Jisung... this is the hallway. You literally saw me thirty seconds ago."

Okay, that's fine. He's just teasing. Teasing is step one of every great romance. "Right, right. Uh, so... want to grab coffee or something? With me. Obviously."

Minho looks at me. Not in a bad way. Just... looks. Like he's trying to figure out what I'm doing, which is fair because sometimes even I don't know what I'm doing. Then, he shrugs. "Sure. Why not."

Victory tastes like sweet, caffeinated success.

We go to this tiny café near campus, the kind with too many succulents and a menu written in cursive fonts that make you question your literacy. I sit across from him, trying to look casual while my heart is tap-dancing in my chest.