Too Shy to Be True

-4-

You look really pretty.

His words echo in your head. Did he really just say that?

You chance a glance down at your clothes. Simple white shirt, black skater skirt. Floral print tights and black creepers. A beanie over your wavy hair. Some brackets and rings. A statement necklace and an arrow charm.

Typical you.

So why is he only noting it today?

He opens his binder again, acting like it was nothing.

Except.

There's the faintest pink dusting the bottom of his neck.

Which, of course, makes you blush. You're sure it doesn't mean anything. Maybe he's just never called a girl pretty before? You reach for another brownie to cover up your shaking hands. And also, because hot damn, those are some amazing fucking brownies.

"Th— thanks," you stutter, hoping he'll attribute your slip to a story crumb being stuck in your throat.

"You're welcome,"  he says. "Ok. Physics."

***********************************************

"Oh my God," you groan, stretching your legs out in front of you. You've been in the auditorium for two hours and eight minutes.

You stand up and reach towards the ceiling, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders, your top rising the tiniest bit. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jeongin look away.

So pure, you think affectionately. Looking away when it's less than an inch of skin, not singing any of his songs due to whatever contract or promise, even though it's just us here, adhering to his parents wishes, even if it means being perpetually burned out and not enjoying life to the fullest.

You pick up your phone and walk over to the stage, propping your elbows on the edge, scrolling aimlessly through your emails when something hits you.

"Hey Jeongin," you say, chest resting on one of your arms. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure?" He says apprehensively.

"Well, two somethings, I guess."

"Okay."

You open your notes app. "Who all is in this band you're a part of?"

You can practically hear him bite his lip. "Um... I don't..."

"Just curious," you say.

"Well... there's Bang Chan. He's the oldest. Then there's Woojin and Minho. Then Changbin. Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix and Seungmin are all the same age. And then there's me."

"Awww," you say, typing, "Little maknae."

"Yeah. They're pretty much my parents."

You raise an eyebrow. Not that he can see. "Really?"

"Yeah. Well, Chan, Woojin, and Minho are. They all are, in their own ways, but Chan is the one that wakes me up every morning, and by the time I'm dressed, Minho's in the kitchen, cooking. Felix always packs my lunch. He will not let me do it myself. Ever."

"Making sure you don't pack a bunch of junk?"

Jeongin laughs. "No. He puts enough sweets in himself. No, it's more so he enjoys taking care of someone. Felix is the one who made the brownies. They're his favorite. He's a bit of a maknae himself, though. Sometimes, I'm hyung to him."

You bite your lip. "How so?"

"Well, Felix is from Australia. He and Chan hyung both are, but Hyung has been here for... maybe eight years? Felix has only been here for a few months. He's still learning Korean—"