Lacy Euphoria

His Favorite Girl/Part Two: Becoming Real to Him

Originally published on AO3.

🔞 Adults 18+. MDNI. Fictional fanwork using names fictitiously for entertainment. Not real, endorsed, affiliated, or a claim of real events. All romantic and sexual content is between consenting adults. Please consume fiction with media literacy intact.

The drive home feels entirely too short.

You spend most of it staring out the window while the city slips past in blurred reflections across the glass, buildings and traffic moving through their own morning completely unaware that your entire world feels slightly tilted now. Your phone sits silent in your lap the whole ride, and for some reason that bothers you more than it should. Not because he owes you a message. Not because you are expecting anything. Just because less than an hour ago, Mingi’s hand had been resting against your lower back while he stole bites of breakfast and annoyed Seonghwa before either of them had enough caffeine to function. Now the hotel is disappearing behind you one block at a time, and somehow the silence feels louder than the city outside the window.

You hate how much you already miss him.

The thought arrives so suddenly you physically recoil from it. “Nope,” you say under your breath, and the driver glances briefly at you in the rearview mirror before you immediately turn back toward the window like you were absolutely not talking to yourself in the back seat of a car. Nothing to see here. Absolutely nothing.

By the time you get home, you have almost convinced yourself you are being dramatic. Almost. Your keys land in the bowl beside the door, your shoes end up where they always do, and the house is exactly the same as it was yesterday morning. The problem is that you are not.

You make it all the way to the kitchen before your brain betrays you. It is not the confession that comes back first, or even waking up beside him. Somehow your memory skips right past those and lands on the realization that Seonghwa had apparently known about you before you knew about him. That should probably bother you more than it does. Instead, your thoughts immediately go somewhere far less helpful.

The way Mingi had looked at you when his restraint finally broke.

Heat climbs your neck before you can stop it. You pause in front of the refrigerator and close your eyes for a second before opening it and reaching for a bottle of water, like hydration is somehow going to save you from your own thoughts. It does not. The second the cold bottle touches your hand, your brain starts offering details. The sound of his voice when it dropped lower. The way his hands kept finding you. The way every touch felt deliberate once you realized he was not performing anymore.

You take a long drink and immediately regret it because now you are thinking about the confession too. Not just the words themselves, but the way he said them. Like he had already made peace with the fact that he was in trouble. Like he had already crossed a line he could not uncross. Like he had decided you were worth it anyway.

You lower the bottle and stare at the countertop. This is ridiculous. You are a grown woman with responsibilities, appointments, clients, and an entire life waiting for your attention. You should not be standing in your kitchen replaying the last twenty-four hours of Song Mingi like they are a greatest hits album.

And yet the memories keep coming. Seonghwa standing in the hotel suite holding coffee. The calm way he looked at you. The words that have somehow lodged themselves in your brain ever since. Nice to finally meet you. The emphasis had not been on meeting you at all. It had been on finally, and somehow that single word has been bothering you since the moment he said it.

You straighten and set the bottle down. Not what did Mingi say, but how long. How long had he been talking about you? Because those are two very different questions, and somehow the second one follows you through the rest of the morning. It follows you while you unpack your bag, answer emails, sort through notifications, and pretend to focus on literally anything else.

Nothing works. Not work, not television, not social media, and definitely not laundry. Every road somehow leads right back to him, to a laugh you did not expect, to a look you were not prepared for, to a confession that still feels unreal, and to the way daylight somehow made everything more intimate instead of less.

By early afternoon, you are convinced the universe is actively mocking you.

⸻

The hotel suite feels too quiet almost immediately after the door closes behind you, which is ridiculous because it had been quiet yesterday too. And the day before that. Yet somehow Mingi finds himself standing there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the door after you have gone before finally turning away from it.

The couch turns out to be a mistake.

He drops onto it anyway and immediately regrets the decision when the cushion still smells faintly like your shampoo. The realization irritates him enough that he drops his head back against the cushions and groans. “Fantastic.”

Across the room, Seonghwa does not even bother looking up from his phone. “You look miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” Mingi mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

That finally earns him a glance. Seonghwa lowers the phone slightly, takes one look at him, and deadpans, “You’ve been staring at a throw pillow for two minutes.”

Mingi glances down before immediately looking away again. Unfortunately, Seonghwa has a point. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

That is a lie. A very Seonghwa-shaped lie.

Mingi closes his eyes and settles deeper into the couch while Seonghwa goes right back to scrolling. The room feels different now. Not empty. Different. Like something important just left. Which is an absolutely insane thought to have about somebody he met at a fansign.

Then Seonghwa speaks again without looking up. “You’re smiling.”

Mingi’s eyes open immediately. “What?”

“You’ve been smiling at absolutely nothing for ten minutes.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You are.”

Mingi glances toward the dark television screen across the room and immediately regrets it when the reflection staring back at him looks entirely too pleased with itself. The worst part is that Seonghwa is right.

His thoughts keep drifting back to you whether he wants them to or not. The way you looked sitting at the breakfast table. The way you laughed at something stupid he said. The way you looked at him that morning like none of it felt temporary anymore.

Then his memory becomes significantly less helpful.

“Ah, shit,” Mingi breathes, closing his eyes again.

Seonghwa finally lowers the phone completely. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“That is not a nothing face.”

“It is a nothing face.”

“It absolutely is not.”

Mingi keeps his eyes closed because this is exactly why he hates living around observant people. The silence stretches for a few seconds before Seonghwa’s expression shifts. Slowly. Dangerously. His eyes narrow slightly as realization settles in.

“Oh.”

Mingi immediately opens one eye. “No.”

“You were not even looking at your phone.”

“Hyung.”

“You were just sitting there.”

“Hyung.”

“And somehow you still managed to get distracted.”

Mingi grabs the nearest pillow and drops it into his lap so fast he may as well have announced it over a loudspeaker. The room goes silent for one awful second before Seonghwa presses his lips together.

“Oh my God.”

“Stop.”

“She left less than an hour ago.”

“Please stop talking.”

“You are unbelievable.”

Mingi drags both hands down his face. “This is harassment.”

“No,” Seonghwa replies, finally losing the fight against a laugh. “This is consequences.”

Mingi considers throwing something at him, but unfortunately, that would require moving the pillow. Seonghwa must realize the same thing because his smile gets worse.

“You’ve got it bad,” Seonghwa says.

That lands harder than it should, not because it is embarrassing, but because it is true. Mingi stares at the ceiling while the realization settles over him slowly. He does have it bad. Bad enough that the suite feels different without you in it. Bad enough that he has been thinking about you all morning. Bad enough that Seonghwa noticed before he did.

His phone buzzes against the coffee table, and both of them look at it at the same time. Seonghwa immediately smirks. “You’re going to text her.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Mingi says, even as he leans forward to pick up the phone.

“You were absolutely planning on it.”

Mingi stares at the screen, then keeps staring at it while Seonghwa watches from across the room with the patience of someone observing a very slow-moving train wreck. “You’ve been looking at that phone for five minutes,” Seonghwa says eventually.

“I’m thinking.”

“No. You’re staring.”

Mingi ignores him and opens your conversation anyway, his thumb hovering over the keyboard while he debates what to say. He wants something clever. Something casual. Something that does not immediately expose the fact that you have been occupying an unreasonable amount of space in his head since you left. Unfortunately, he cannot think of a single thing, so he settles for honest.

You make it home?

The message sends, and Mingi immediately regrets how fast his heart starts beating while waiting for an answer. Across the room, Seonghwa watches the entire thing happen and sighs into his coffee. “Pathetic.”

“Leave me alone.”

“No.”

Mingi drops his head back against the couch and groans while Seonghwa’s laughter follows him across the room. Unfortunately, he is still laughing when your reply finally comes through.

⸻

Your phone vibrates on the counter, and you grab it so fast it is embarrassing before immediately pretending you did not. The screen lights up with one new message, and your stomach drops before you even open it.

Mingi.

You stare at his name for a second longer than necessary before opening the message.

You make it home?

That is it. No flirting. No dramatic declarations. No mention of last night. Just four words. You read them again, then again, and a slow smile pulls at the corner of your mouth before you can stop it.

Because suddenly you understand something important.

The problem is not that you cannot stop thinking about him.

The problem is that he is thinking about you too.