Hai

i was hanging out with my friend and she randomly lifted my sleeve and saw all my sc##rs help idk how to feel about this. she knows about it but i didn't expect her to want to see them

find any excuse you can not to eat.

hunger pains? maybe it’s food poisoning

don’t eat.

it’s dinner time? sorry, i have a lot of homework

don’t eat.

out with friends? i’m still full from earlier…

don’t eat.

feeling hungry? you’re just bored and dehydrated

don’t eat.

tired? you’re just lethargic, get some steps in! and

don’t eat.

@academia-lucifer

people will still love you despite it all

PAS DE DEUX - THE8 | SEVENTEEN

Minghao is the mentor for a new batch of trainees and catches M/n, an unmotivated and conscious trainee in a way no one can quite explain. They spend time in the studio together. Maybe too much. The others are jealous. But nothing is stopping him from teaching his boy his body is beautiful.

Do it like how you taught me, Make bands by my lonely

♱ PAIRING : XU MINGHAO X MALE READER ♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains VERY explicit sexual content and mature themes. ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : Um... so once again I got carried away... 20 pages... tah dah! LINKS : Wattpad

The studio was alive with movement, the rhythmic pounding of feet against the polished wood floor syncing with the bass-heavy track playing overhead. The air smelled of sweat and determination, a reminder of the countless hours poured into perfecting every step, every breath, every motion. 

M/n stood at the back of the room, trying to blend in, but it was impossible. His movements weren’t sharp, his footwork not crisp. He could feel the stares, the subtle shifts in the energy around him and other trainees noticing, judging. 

“Again,” the dance coach called out. The music restarted, M/n clenched his fists before throwing himself back into the choreography. He knew he wasn’t the best, but he refused to be the worst. 

The murmurs started the second he stumbled. 

“He’s still struggling?” someone muttered under their breath. A quiet scoff from another trainee followed. 

M/n bit down on the inside of his cheek. Then, the music cut off abruptly. 

"Alright, take five. Everyone, except you." The unfamiliar voice was firm but smooth, and the moment M/n turned to look, his breath caught. 

Xu Minghao stood near the mirrors, arms crossed, eyes sharp and assessing. The dancer, Seventeen’s performance powerhouse, was watching him. 

M/n swallowed hard. His muscles ached from overwork, his chest tight from exertion, but nothing compared to the weight of Minghao’s gaze on him. 

"You," Minghao continued, taking a step closer, "stay back. The rest of you, get some water." 

The trainees hesitated, some exchanging glances before filing out. Their silent judgment burned against M/n’s skin. 

Minghao watched him for a long moment before speaking again, pointing to the floor, still comfortably leaning against the mirror. 

"Show me the last section of the routine." 

M/n exhaled sharply, nodding, wiping the sweat on his palms on his sweatpants. He stepped into position, body tense with nerves, and the music started again. He moved, he tried. He failed. 

Minghao clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "You're too stiff," he said, stepping forward. "You're overthinking. Let me show you." 

Before M/n could react, Minghao was behind him, close enough that M/n could feel the warmth of his presence. Slender fingers traced his skin as he guided his arms into the right position, fingers skimming his wrist, adjusting his posture. 

M/n's breath hitched. 

"Relax," Minghao murmured, voice low, close to his ear. "Feel the movement, don't fight it." 

The words sent a shiver down M/n’s spine, but he nodded, forcing himself to focus. He had to. He couldn’t afford to fall behind. Not in dance, not in his dreams. And definitely not because of the sudden, unwanted spark curling in his chest. 

Not for his mentor. 

Not for Xu Minghao. 

M/n took a steadying breath, forcing himself to focus on Minghao’s instructions rather than the way his mentor’s touch lingered just long enough to make his pulse quicken. 

“Again,” Minghao said, stepping back. 

The music restarted, and this time, M/n moved with more fluidity. His muscles still burned from exhaustion, but the difference was immediate. The moment he stopped fighting the choreography, it started to feel… natural. 

Minghao watched intently, nodding slightly as M/n executed the steps with newfound ease. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. When the routine ended, the silence stretched, save for the sound of M/n’s heavy breathing. 

Minghao’s lips quirked slightly. “See? You can do it.” 

M/n wiped the sweat from his forehead, his heart hammering from more than just exertion. “Barely.” 

“If you were hopeless, I wouldn’t be wasting my time.” Minghao’s tone was calm, matter-of-fact. He wasn’t giving compliments; he was stating a fact. 

Still, something in M/n’s chest fluttered at the words. 

The studio door opened, and the other trainees filtered back in. Some shot him unreadable glances, while others ignored him entirely. The shift in atmosphere was subtle, but it was there; the quiet resentment of those who had watched M/n struggle, only to see him get special attention from Xu Minghao himself. 

Minghao seemed to notice too, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he clapped his hands together. “Break’s over. Let’s get back to work.” 

M/n exhaled, shaking off the unease creeping up his spine. It didn’t matter what the others thought. He wasn’t here to impress them. He was here to prove to himself, to the company, to Minghao; that he belonged. 

As the next round of practice began, M/n threw himself into the dance, pushing past the doubt and the whispers. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the weight of Minghao’s gaze on him. 

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

`` Days blurred together in an endless cycle of training, evaluations, and exhaustion. The choreography became muscle memory, but M/n's mind never settled. The studio had become a battlefield; one where every misstep felt like a bullet, and every success only fueled the silent resentment simmering around him. 

`Minghao remained a constant presence, his mentoring sharp and precise. He pushed M/n harder than the others, but in a way that felt deliberate, almost as if he was testing him. 

One evening, after an especially grueling session, M/n lingered behind in the studio, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Sweat dripped from his temples, his shirt clinging to his body. He should have left already, but his frustration wouldn’t let him. 

Why do I still feel behind? 

The door creaked open. 

"You’re overthinking again." 

M/n startled, turning to find Minghao leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. His sharp gaze softened slightly as he stepped forward. 

M/n swallowed. "I just… I don’t get why it’s so easy for everyone else." 

Minghao hummed, stopping just a step away. “It’s not.” 

M/n scoffed. “You don’t see them struggling like I do.” 

"Because they hide it." Minghao tilted his head. "Like you're trying to right now." 

M/n froze. He hadn’t realized how tightly he was clenching his fists until Minghao’s gaze flickered to them. 

"You’re improving, M/n." Minghao’s voice was quieter now. "But dance isn’t just about the moves. It’s about trust." 

"Trust?" M/n frowned. 

Minghao nodded. "In yourself. In your body. In the movement. You fight it too much." 

M/n huffed. "Maybe because I keep feeling like I don’t belong here." 

The words slipped out before he could stop them. 

Silence settled between them. Minghao studied him for a long moment before speaking again, his voice firm but calm. 

"If you didn’t belong, I wouldn’t be wasting my time on you." 

The words hit deeper than M/n expected. 

For the first time in weeks, the tight knot in his chest loosened just slightly. 

Minghao didn’t offer more reassurance; he simply turned toward the sound system. "One more time. Just you and me." 

M/n hesitated before nodding. 

The music started, and this time, M/n let himself move. He let himself trust. 

And for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was chasing the rhythm. 

He was dancing with it. 

And Minghao was watching. 

M/n woke up sore the next morning, his body aching from the extra practice with Minghao. But despite the exhaustion, a sense of accomplishment settled in his chest. For once, he wasn’t drowning in self-doubt. 

Yet, as soon as he stepped into the practice room, the atmosphere felt… different. 

The other trainees were already stretching, but the usual chatter was subdued. A few pairs of eyes flickered toward him, whispers exchanged just low enough that he couldn’t make out the words. 

M/n exhaled sharply, pushing down the unease. 

He knew the others had noticed the extra attention Minghao gave him. He knew they probably thought he was getting special treatment. But they weren’t there when I stayed late. They weren’t there when I worked myself to the bone. 

"Suck up," someone muttered as he passed by. 

M/n’s jaw clenched, but he ignored it, focusing on his warm-up. 

When Minghao walked in a few minutes later, the tension in the room only thickened. He greeted the group briefly, eyes scanning the trainees before landing on M/n for just a second too long. M/n looked away, hoping no one noticed. 

They did. 

Practice was brutal. Minghao wasn’t holding back today, pushing them harder than ever. M/n did his best to keep up, but every time he executed the moves, he could feel the weight of eyes on him. 

Then, during a water break, the whispering turned into something worse. 

"Did you hear?" one of the trainees said just loud enough for M/n to catch. "Minghao’s been giving private lessons." 

M/n’s stomach twisted. 

"I've noticed he’s a lot more flexible." another voice joined in. "I think he’s getting stretched out a different way then us." 

Laughter. A sharp, bitter kind. 

M/n’s grip tightened around his water bottle. He forced himself to stay silent, to not let them see that their words had gotten under his skin. 

But Minghao had heard. 

"Line up," Minghao’s voice cut through the tension, sharper than usual. 

The trainees scrambled into position, but the mood had already shifted. 

Minghao’s eyes flickered toward M/n, unreadable, but something about his posture had changed. 

He had heard everything. 

And he wasn’t going to ignore it. 

M/n forced himself to focus, but his mind raced with the words he had just heard. Private lessons. Getting ahead. It wasn’t just whispers anymore; it was an accusation. 

Minghao stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he scanned the group. His presence was always commanding, but today, there was something sharper in his gaze. 

"Let me make one thing very clear." His voice was calm, but the weight behind it made the room feel smaller. "In this industry, you earn your place. No exceptions." 

No one dared to speak. 

"If someone is improving, it’s because they’re putting in the work," Minghao continued, his eyes sweeping over the trainees. "If they stay behind after hours, if they push themselves past their limits, if they refuse to give up no matter how hard it gets; that’s why they get better." 

M/n’s breath hitched. 

Minghao took a slow step forward, gaze locking onto the group. "But if anyone here thinks they can undermine someone else’s progress because of their own insecurities, you’re free to leave now. Because if I catch any more of this petty, baseless gossip-" he let the words settle, his voice dipping lower, "you won’t last here." 

Silence. Heavy and suffocating. 

M/n could feel the shift in the room. No one met Minghao’s gaze, but the shame was palpable. The whispers wouldn’t vanish overnight, but Minghao had drawn a line. 

Then, just as quickly as the moment came, Minghao clapped his hands together. "Now, unless you’d rather gossip, we’re running the routine from the top." 

The music started, and M/n exhaled. 

For the first time, he didn’t feel alone. 

Minghao had defended him. Publicly. Unapologetically. 

And no matter how much M/n tried to ignore it, his heart raced at the thought. 

The shift in the atmosphere was undeniable. After Minghao’s warning, the whispers didn’t completely stop, but they dulled into background noise. The jealousy hadn’t disappeared, but no one dared to openly challenge M/n anymore. 

Still, the weight of their eyes lingered. 

Minghao didn’t treat him any differently in front of the others, but there was something there, something unspoken, simmering beneath the surface. 

It was in the way he lingered just a second longer when adjusting M/n’s form. The way his gaze followed M/n when he thought no one was looking. The way his voice softened ever so slightly when speaking to him. 

M/n told himself it was just his imagination. 

But then came the partnering exercise. 

Minghao had decided to challenge them with a new routine; one that required working in pairs to test their synchronization and connection. 

And when it came time to assign partners, Minghao didn’t hesitate. 

"M/n, with me." 

The room was silent for a fraction too long. 

M/n swallowed. "O-Okay." 

As the other trainees moved into their own pairings, M/n found himself standing directly in front of Minghao. The height difference was subtle, but noticeable enough that M/n felt it as they took their positions. 

Minghao placed a hand on M/n’s waist, his grip firm but controlled. "Relax," he instructed. "You’re too tense." 

"I’m trying not to be," M/n muttered. 

Minghao smirked, just barely. "Then let’s fix it." 

The music started, and M/n focused on moving with the rhythm. But it was impossible to ignore how close they were; how every shift, every step, brought him within inches of Minghao’s frame. 

When Minghao guided him into a turn, his grip tightened, steadying him effortlessly. M/n’s pulse stuttered. 

"You’re hesitating," Minghao said. 

"I-" M/n faltered as their eyes met. 

Minghao’s gaze was unreadable, but there was something intense in the way he was looking at him. Something that made M/n’s breath catch. 

"Don’t hesitate," Minghao said, voice quieter this time. 

M/n nodded, but his heart was beating far too fast for reasons that had nothing to do with the dance. 

They moved together, the world fading around them. And for just a moment, it didn’t feel like practice. 

It felt like something else entirely. 

The music swelled, and they moved as one. 

M/n had stopped thinking, stopped overanalyzing every step, every motion. His body followed Minghao’s lead instinctively, matching his rhythm, his energy. It was effortless. Natural. 

Minghao’s hand was firm on his waist, guiding him through the turn. The proximity between them was undeniable, but M/n barely had time to process it before Minghao executed the final move; a deep dip, pulling M/n flush against him. 

M/n’s breath hitched. 

His back arched slightly over Minghao’s arm, and for a split second, they weren’t just two dancers in sync. 

They were something more. 

The studio felt too quiet, the air thick with something neither of them dared to name. 

Minghao didn’t let go immediately. His grip on M/n’s waist lingered, just a second too long. And when M/n’s gaze flickered up, their eyes locked. 

The tension snapped tight. 

It was in the way Minghao’s fingers curled slightly, holding him in place. The way his lips parted, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. 

M/n barely realized he was gripping onto Minghao’s arm until he felt the heat of his skin beneath his fingertips. 

Then Minghao inhaled sharply; just a small, barely audible breath and that was enough to jolt them both back to reality. 

He released M/n, stepping back. "Again," he said, voice neutral, but there was an edge to it—like he was forcing himself to sound unaffected. 

M/n swallowed hard, nodding. "Right. Again." 

But as they reset into position, his pulse refused to settle. 

And when they moved together once more, M/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they had just come dangerously close to crossing a line neither of them was ready to acknowledge. 

The tension between them didn’t fade. If anything, it only grew stronger. 

Days passed, filled with grueling practice sessions and lingering glances. M/n told himself it was just in his head, but he could feel it every time Minghao adjusted his form, every time their fingers brushed, every time their eyes met for just a second too long. 

It was a slow, torturous build-up, a silent push and pull neither of them acknowledged. 

Until one night, when the studio was empty, and there was nowhere left to hide. 

M/n had stayed behind again, practicing long after the others had left. He was exhausted, his body screaming for rest, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet. 

The music played softly in the background as he moved through the steps, his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. But something was off, his timing, his balance. Frustration bubbled up, and he ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling sharply. 

"You’re pushing yourself too hard." 

M/n startled at the voice, whipping around to see Minghao leaning against the doorframe. 

"Thought you left," M/n muttered, trying to steady his breath. 

Minghao stepped inside, his eyes scanning M/n carefully. "I was going to. Then I saw the lights still on." 

M/n huffed. "Figured I’d get in some extra practice." 

Minghao crossed his arms. "You don’t need more practice." 

M/n scoffed. "You sure? Because it feels like I do." 

Minghao exhaled, stepping closer. "You’re not struggling with the choreography anymore, M/n. That’s not why you’re still here." 

M/n froze. 

Minghao studied him, his gaze unreadable but intense. "You’re fighting something. And it’s not the dance." 

Silence stretched between them. M/n felt his pulse quicken, his body growing warmer under Minghao’s unwavering stare. 

It would be so easy to deny it; to laugh it off, change the subject. But in this quiet, empty studio, with nothing but the sound of their breathing between them… 

Lying didn’t feel like an option. 

M/n swallowed. "And if I am?" 

Minghao’s eyes flickered with something, something dangerous. "Then stop fighting." 

M/n’s breath caught. 

The distance between them felt smaller than before. He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Minghao was right there, close enough that M/n could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that if he just leaned in… 

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Minghao murmured, his voice quieter now, lower. "I tried ignoring it. I tried pretending it wasn’t there. But every time I watch you dance, every time I correct you, every time you look at me like that-" 

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I can’t ignore it anymore." 

M/n’s heart pounded. "Then don’t." 

For a moment, they just stood there, breaths mingling in the stillness of the studio. 

Then, finally, finally, Minghao closed the distance. 

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant it was slow, deliberate, a silent answer to everything they had been holding back. M/n melted into it, his fingers curling around Minghao’s shirt, anchoring himself. 

M/n felt his world tilt on its axis as their lips met. It was soft at first, a gentle press of mouths, but quickly turned into a desperate kiss, the passion igniting. 

Minghao tasted of mint and determination. His hands, earlier strict and disciplined in their corrections, now explored M/n's back under his shirt with a tenderness that belied their usual professional demeanor. Fingers tangled in hair, breaths mingled, and the studio filled with the soft sounds of their mutual surrender. 

M/n was lost in the kiss, in the warmth and comfort of finally giving in to his feelings. He felt Minghao's arms wrap around him, holding him close as if he might disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened, becoming more frantic as their hunger for each other overwhelmed any remaining restraint. 

Minghao pinned M/n against the studio mirror, his body flush against the other's. He trailed kisses along M/n's jawline, pausing to nip gently at his earlobe. 

“Is this okay?” Minghao asked, keeping apart from M/n’s lips for just a second as he held his face close by the back of his head, fingers entangled in his hair. 

“Yes,” M/n reassured, looking through his long eyelashes up at Minghao.`  

"Good..." he whispered, catching M/n's bottom lip between his teeth gently. His hands started to trail down from M/n's neck, across his collarbones, to the hem of his shirt. "Can I..." he asked softly, fingers grazing the bare skin of his stomach. "Take this off?" 

“Mm,” M/n hummed. 

Slowly, almost reverently, Minghao eased M/n's shirt upwards. His calloused fingers brushed along M/n's sides, sending shivers across his skin as the fabric slid off completely. Minghao drank in the sight of M/n's bare torso, eyes darkening with appreciation. "Beautiful," 

“You’re just saying that...” 

“Look at me,” he demanded softly, his fingers hooking into the waistband of M/n’s pant. He wanted M/n to see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was looking  at M/n like he was a prized possession. 

Minghao leaned in and placed a soft kiss on M/n’s neck, his warm breath fanning across his skin as he spoke. “I’m saying it because it’s true,” he murmured, his fingers slowly untying M/n’s sweatpants, “You’re so fucking beautiful, M/n.” 

He gently pushed M/n’s pants down, hooping around his thigh along with his undergarments, reveling his slim hips and thighs. He trailed kisses down M/n’s chest, his abs, and then finally his thighs as he helped M/n step out of his clothes, “Lift your arms,” he whispered. 

M/n followed instructions. The damp t-shirt slipped off his body, then their forehead pressed together for a moment, peppering kisses as Minghao drank in his junior's body, “Fuck...” he breathed, admiring M/n’s naked form in the studio mirror light, “You’re so perfect,” He trailed a hand down M/n’s side. 

Minghao began to remove his own clothes. His shirt was discarded quickly with the help of M/n, reveling taut muscles and smooth skin. His pants followed soon after, leaving his bare before M/n. M/n stood starstruck. He’d never in a million years think his idol would be au naturel right in front of him. 

Minghao stepped back closer, his hands framing M/n’s waist possessively. He nuzzled his face into M/n’s neck, inhaling his scent deeply. “Turn around,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I wanna see you from every angle.” 

Guided by Minghao’s hand, M/n turned and faced the mirror. 

One hand snaked around M/n’s waist, resting low on his stomach. The other traced up his chest, brushing against a nipple. “Look at yourself...” 

M/n looked into the mirror. He was in awe at himself. He didn’t recognize himself. In Minghao’s arms, he felt sexier, more alive, more than what anyone could tell him. 

Minghao wrapped him arms around him, placing a kiss on M/n’s shoulder, smiling onto his skin, “See how stunning you are?” 

M/n’s lips curved into a soft smile as covered Minghao’s hands with his own, relishing the feeling of their naked bodies pressed together. “Every curve, every line...” Minghao cooed, his hands roaming over M/n’s torso, “Absolutely gorgeous.” 

“I want you,” M/n whispered breathy, almost not aware he said that out loud. 

Minghao’s breath hitched at M/n’s confession. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips as he felt a shudder run through M/n’s body. “Fuck, I want you too. You deserve it.” 

M/n leaned back into Minghao’s embrace as their fingers locked over M/n’s chest. His breath caught in his throat as he felt M/n’s weight settled against him. “Let me treat you like the prince you are.” 

Minghao slips his fingers into his own mouth, covering it in his spit. He slowly trails those wet fingers down M/n’s backside, pushing M/n gently into the mirror. 

He spread M/n’s legs apart with his thigh as he slowly circled his wet fingers around M/n’s entrance, teasing and preparing him gently. He looked at the scene in the mirror, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the reflected image of M/n panting, sweat sticking to his forehead and the mirror. 

His finger slowly pushed inside M/n, watching carefully for any signs of discomfort, “Good, baby.” He cooed, his free hand slid around to grip M/n’s erection. He saw M/n’s reflection, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he hissed and ahed. 

Pushing his fingers deeper, he started stroking M/n in rhythm with each thrust, his hand working the younger’s length perfectly. In the mirror he could just see how turned on M/n was, “Look at how beautiful you are taking my fingers,” His teeth nipping at M/n’s ear. 

Minghao withdrew his fingers, leaving M/n trembling with need. Holding M/n by the hips, Minghao guided him to bend forward slightly, pressing his chest his back as he hooked his chin on M/n’s shoulder, locking a hand together in front of him as his other positioned himself at M/n’s entrance. 

He slowly pushed in, giving M/n time to adjust. Minghao’s fingernails dug into M/n’s hips as gently as possible, M/n’s hand gripping tightly in his. Minghao pulled back slowly. Almost withdrawing completely before snapping his hips forward again.  

“Fuck... God...” Minghao groaned deeply, pleasure rolling through him as he watched M/n accept him so perfectly. In and out, he had a set steady rhythm, his hips rocking forward and pulling back, watching the erotic sight of their coupling in the mirror. 

“Hao, f-fuck,” M/n choked, the vibration of his moans and whines bouncing off the mirror. Minghao’s lips curl into a smile at M/n calling out his name so lude. His togue ghost his lips briefly at the needy whimpers. 

M/n could feel his release building in his stomach, his thighs shook and he practically was scream for a resolve. Minghao reached his hand back around M/m’s leaking length, stroking him in time with his thrusts, “Come for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire but so sweet like his smirk as M/n came undone, him following suit. 

He felt M/n’s released pulse through him, hot and west against his hand. The sight of M/n falling apart in the mirror, pleasure contorting his features, stuttered as he came hard, burying himself deep inside M/n with a choked groan, then a sweet string moans straight in M/n’s ear. 

As the final shudders of their releases faded, Minghao stayed buried deep inside M/n, holding him close. He peppered soft kisses along his junior's shoulder blade, murmuring praises between each gentle press of his lips. 

The next morning, nothing had changed. 

And yet, everything had. 

M/n and Minghao returned to practice like nothing had happened. They kept their distance, their interactions no different from before, strictly professional, strictly normal. No one batted an eye. 

But beneath the surface, there were cracks in the facade. 

It was in the fleeting glances they shared when no one was looking. The way Minghao’s hand brushed against M/n’s lower back for just a second too long when adjusting his form. The way M/n held his breath whenever Minghao got too close, because now he knew what it felt like to have that distance erased. 

And then there were the nights. 

When practice ended and the others left, and Minghao would find an excuse to stay behind. When M/n would linger in the studio just a little longer, waiting. When the silence between them carried an entirely new weight; one filled with stolen moments, quiet confessions, and the unspoken promise of more. 

They weren’t reckless, but they weren’t distant either. 

Late at night, after the world had gone still, they met in empty studios and whispered things they couldn’t say in daylight. Minghao would pull M/n close, pressing lazy kisses to his temple, murmuring things like, "You’re getting better." "You’re going to make it." "I’ll be right here." 

And M/n would believe him. 

Because despite the secrecy, despite the world they lived in; the competition, the expectations, the scrutiny, this felt real. 

And for now, that was enough. 

As M/n packed up his things after another long day, he felt the familiar presence before he even turned around. 

"You’re staying late again?" Minghao’s voice was quiet, just for him. 

M/n smiled. "Depends. Are you?" 

Minghao’s lips twitched. "If you are." 

The answer was unspoken, but they both understood. 

So as the doors shut behind the last of the trainees, and the studio emptied once more, M/n turned to face Minghao; his partner, his mentor, his secret. 

And in the soft glow of the practice room lights, as they stepped toward each other again, M/n knew this was just the beginning. 

[250126] Seventeen Right Here in Asia - Singapore D2

sonnet18_ 🎱 don’t edit/crop logo.

⠀⠀　⠀⠀you　 　 took　 　 the⠀⠀⠀🗡️

　 　 　 best　 of 　 my　 heart,

　 left 　 　 the　 　 rest 　 　 in 　 　 pieces

　　　　ਏਓ 　༼ 　 Whi—　Whiplash　 ─━╋　 　

ㅤ͏͏͏ㅤㅤ777 ✿ 𓈒ㅤㅤ堂與地獄ㅤ　 ᭄　🍷

@i-hani 　

life so shit i think about 4na when i see this part