Want so Bad Han Jisung x Reader x Lee Minho

The start of a typical romance, though I know it all, I deeply
Fall into you and get my hopes up again

Even though it wasn't a formal showcase, the energy in the space felt thick, like everyone was trying to prove something. Jisung had invited me to the open mic night to support Felix and Hyunjin, and I told myself that's why I was here. But I knew better. Part of me came to see if Minho would show up. Another part came because Jisung had held my silence like it was sacred.

This wasn't just a performance. It was the final night before 3RACHA's big audition for one of Korea's top music labels. The company had shown interest in their self-produced work, and tonight's show was essentially a live test. All eyes were on them. What no one expected was that Minho, after months of quiet dedication and practice, would catch the attention of one of the scouts too.

I sat between Seungmin and I.N in the third row. I.N bounced his knees restlessly, fingers tapping on his phone screen in patterns I didn't understand. Probably lyrics. Seungmin handed me a piece of gum without saying a word. It was his quiet way of grounding people.

Felix was already backstage, his head poking out from behind the curtain every now and then. Hyunjin was stretching dramatically near the wings, wearing a mesh shirt and enough attitude to power the entire building.

"I think he's doing interpretive dance this time," Seungmin muttered.

"God help us all," I said, grinning.

Just then, Jisung dropped into the seat beside me. His hoodie was too big, swallowing his frame like he hadn't had time to change since rehearsals.

"You made it," he said.

"Wouldn't miss it. Big night."

His smile was crooked but genuine. "Minho's here too. He said he might try something new."

I blinked. "He's performing?"

"Yeah," Jisung said. "Solo. He got asked to fill in a last-minute dance slot for a scout. Just one number."

The lights dimmed, and Hyunjin floated onto the stage like he owned gravity. What followed was three minutes of chaotic genius—fluid movement that teetered between contemporary and theatrical. Felix joined halfway through, twirling between strobe lights, his laughter echoing through the mic as they danced to a remix of something none of us could name.

The crowd loved it. I clapped until my hands stung.

Then it was 3RACHA's turn. The lights lowered again, and Jisung, Changbin, and Chris took the stage like a storm. They didn't just perform; they exploded. Original lyrics, seamless harmonies, and enough stage presence to rattle the bones of anyone watching. Every note was a memory. Every beat, a promise. It wasn't perfect, but it was real—and they owned every second.

The scout nodded through the entire performance, scribbling notes. When it ended, the applause was deafening.

Then came Minho.

No introduction. Just music. A stark spotlight. He moved like breath itself—sharp, aching, rhythmic. The choreography was his own, I realized. It told a story not with words but with wounds and healing. When it ended, the silence was so loud it hurt.

The scout whispered something to the assistant beside her and nodded. Minho had been seen.

After the show, the crowd spilled out onto the steps in front of the auditorium. Steam from coffee cups rose like ghosts into the cool night air. Felix tackled me in a glitter-covered hug while Hyunjin fanned himself dramatically with a program.

"You guys killed it," I said.

Felix beamed. "I tripped twice. No one noticed."

"I noticed," Seungmin said.

"You're cruel."

"Accurate," Seungmin deadpanned.

I.N hovered nearby, sipping from a hot chocolate and looking like he wanted to ask Chris for an autograph despite having known him for months. "That remix was cool," he said.

"Thanks! It was Felix's idea to do the tempo drop," Hyunjin said proudly.

Minho appeared then, walking down the steps from the campus walkway. His jacket was unzipped, shirt rumpled, like he'd rushed to get there. His eyes scanned the group until they landed on me.

I couldn't look away.

"You came," I said quietly.

"Of course I did. Big night for all of us."

He nodded toward the sidewalk. "Walk with me?"

The studio was empty when we reached it, just the faint scent of resin and oil paint lingering in the air. My canvas was still on the easel, half-covered by a drape. I flipped on the desk lamp.

Minho moved to the corner where a few of my sketches were pinned to the board.

"You drew Jisung," he said after a pause.

I nodded. "He let me."

"You draw the people you trust."

I bit my lip. "Sometimes. Or the people I'm afraid of forgetting."

He turned toward me then, expression unreadable. "Do you trust me?"

The question wasn't casual. It held weight, like he'd been carrying it for longer than he wanted to admit.

"I think," I said slowly, "I want to."

He stepped closer. "I don't know how to be what people expect."

"Neither do I."

"That night on the roof," he said, "I wanted to kiss you. I still do. But I don't want to break anything. Not again."

"Then don't. Let it be something we build. Not something we burn."

His eyes softened. He nodded.

Later that night, I found myself at Changbin's apartment. Chris and Jisung were already there, tangled up in a mess of takeout containers and scribbled lyric sheets. Minho arrived not long after I did.

It felt like home.

"Why are there seven different kinds of dumplings?" I asked.

"We were supposed to vote," Chris explained. "Democracy failed."

"I voted for spicy pork," Jisung added.

"Felix overruled with sheer enthusiasm," Chris finished.

"I like options!" Felix chirped from the kitchen.

Hyunjin strutted in. "Seungmin said my dance was chaotic genius. I choose to focus on 'genius.'"

"You mean iconic," Seungmin corrected.

I sketched them all without thinking. When things calmed, Changbin leaned over.

"You okay?"

"Getting there."

He reached out and flicked the edge of my sketchpad. "You always were the strongest one. You just didn't know it."

Jisung tossed a pillow at me. "Draw me cooler."

"Earn it, Han," Minho added.

Minho leaned back, eyes closed, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was holding my breath.

We were all still healing.

But we were doing it together.

[End of Chapter Twenty]