In which Minghao asks out a questionably cute girl.

Junhui is a friend of a friend.

Minghao doesn't really know her, personally. In fact, this is the first time he's meeting her face to face. She won’t be a disembodied voice yelling Chinese profanities in the background of calls anymore. All he knows is that Wen Junhui is Jihoon noona’s friend and, according to Mingyu, she'll eat you up alive, so you'd be better off with someone… less dangerous.

Frankly, Minghao has no idea what Mingyu is talking about. Just because she wears dark makeup and hardly smiles and wears heels that are very sharp (and very uncomfortable looking) doesn't mean she's dangerous.

They're at a big get-together. And by big, he really means big. There are already eight of them taking over a table in the bar and there are more coming. Koreans have this crazy drinking culture where every celebration involves alcohol – or maybe that's just restricted to his friends. It works either way.

Junhui’s just sitting in the corner, the slightest of smiles on her boldly painted lips. Jihoon is on one side, the seat on Junhui's other side empty. She looks… lonely.

“Oh no,” Mingyu groans. “You can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Minghao answers absently, stealing another glance at Junhui.

His taller friend gestures violently in Junhui’s direction, limbs flailing. “She will eat you – ”

“Eat me up alive,” Minghao finishes with a roll of his eyes. “I think you’re overreacting.” He turns to Wonwoo. “Tell Mingyu he’s overreacting.”

Wonwoo looks between the two of them – Mingyu’s expectant gaze and Minghao’s exasperated one – and shakes his head. “I hate to vote against you, Minghao, but it’s kinda true,” Wonwoo answers regretfully. “I don’t think she’s your type…”

“How would you know?” the Chinese boy huffs. “Maybe she’s exactly my type.”

Mingyu’s and Wonwoo’s twin stares of disbelief rankle.

Okay, so he’s not being entirely truthful. Junhui isn’t exactly his type, but Minghao doesn’t really have a type. All he knows is that he finds her intriguing and he'd very much like to talk to her.

He downs his beer. Maybe he will.

She barely glances at him, but he refuses to let that deter him. He’s not trying to come on to her or anything. He just wants to talk. All he has to do is convince her that he’s not doing it for some bet or something.

He takes the empty seat next to her and she says, “Tell that Kim Mingyu that he can take this bet and shove it up his – ”

Well, that failed epically.

“It’s not a bet,” Minghao corrects gently. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

She raises a carefully drawn eyebrow. “You want to talk to me?” she snorts, and he doesn’t quite understand why she sounds so skeptical. “Listen, little one – ”

“Minghao.”

“Minghao – ” She pauses. “You’re… not Korean, are you?”

He shakes his head, biting back a grin at the way her defenses slip slightly. He thinks he detects a hint of homesickness in her voice – it reminds him of the way he sounds sometimes too.

“I’m from Anshan,” he says in Mandarin, Dongbei accent prominent in those three words. He thinks he sees her lips quirk.

“Well, Dongbei,” she drawls, “I’m not the kind of girl you should be interested in.”

“And what kind of girl would that be?” he challenges.

She tilts her head, lips pursed as her dark eyes size him up the way a lion eyes a gazelle. "The kind that could seriously hurt you when given the chance.”

“I don’t think you’re that bad,” he says lightly, “and I’m not made of glass.”

Junhui tilts her head to the side, regarding him curiously. “What’s your play?” she demands and he feels kinda bad that she feels so defensive.

Minghao grins, harmless and boyish. “No play. I just want to get to know you better,” he says sincerely, hoping she’ll feel his good will.

Her eyes narrow. Well, Minghao thinks ruefully, I blew it big time. He honestly just wanted to get to know her better. Nothing to prove – just pure interest. Then, an amused, almost bewildered, smile crosses her red lips.

“I’m free Friday,” she says with a tilt of her head, shoulder-length hair tickling her neck.

Minghao’s eyes widen. Oh. Oh, she’s – she’d really…

“I – I'll pick you up then!” Keep your cool, Minghao. Just – cool. “See you this Friday.”

This Friday. Oh my god, Minghao, what other Friday could she be talking about? He bites back a wince and grins wider instead.

He turns back to his friends, heart pounding in his chest because he got a date with Wen Junhui and he's not trying to prove himself to Mingyu or Wonwoo or even Seokmin. No, he just asked a girl he thinks he likes on a date and he succeeded.

Mingyu’s face is a painting of horror and when Minghao reaches their table, the taller immediately drags Minghao into a hug.

“You brave creature,” Mingyu wails. “Let hyung heal your pains – ”

Minghao shoves him, wrinkling his nose. “We’re the same age,” Minghao laments, “and I'm not in pain, what the .”

Surprise flits across Wonwoo’s features. “Where did you learn that word?” Wonwoo sounds like he's trying to scold Minghao and the Chinese boy has had enough of their well-meaning but extremely misplaced concern.

“I'm twenty,” Minghao says drily, carefully not mentioning that Seungkwan had patiently taught him a handful of cusses – for your own protection, oppa, the younger had promised. She may be telling the truth, or she might just gain delight from the way a lot of people look like they're going to explode when they hear sweet, gentle Minghao swearing like a sailor (or at least a cabin boy, because Minghao is much more comfortable swearing in his native language).

Mingyu only ever has the best intentions, but he's so bad at getting his good intentions conveyed correctly. Case in point: “You didn't have to prove anything to us, you know. We love you no matter how squishy you – ”

Thank god for Wonwoo, who stops Mingyu’s condescending rant before Minghao drop kicks the giant. Mingyu might have ten centimeters over Minghao, but the latter has ten years of wushu under his belt. Minghao is also getting his mastery in wushu.

“Mingyu-yah, I think Minghao is more than capable of making his own decision,” Wonwoo murmurs, hand clamped firmly over Mingyu’s mouth. Minghao beams; he doesn't need either of their approval, but Wonwoo’s support is heartening. Minghao doesn't have many friends, but Mingyu and Wonwoo are kinda his favourites.

“I think Mingyu’s just scared of Junhui unnie,” an amused voice muses and Mingyu scowls.

“I am not afraid of some chick,” he sputters indignantly, face blotching red in the dim light. “Be gone, she-devil.”

Seungkwan smiles blithely, beer bottle held loosely between her fingers. Minghao can't decide if she's going to splash her drink all over Mingyu’s grey shirt of if she'll break the bottle and slash at him with the jagged edges. Personally, Minghao thinks either one is equally likely.

“ on a lemon, Kim Mingyu,” Seungkwan says sweetly and Mingyu gasps like it's a horrible curse. It’s possibly one of those inside jokes that Mingyu and Seungkwan seem to share in abundance – or it would be, if they seemed like friends.

Before things get heated (or violent), Hansol steps in effortlessly. “Quit poking the bear,” he chides lightly, arm curling around Seungkwan’s shoulders so he can pull her close.

“It wasn’t me,” Seungkwan and Mingyu exclaim at the same time. Minghao snorts, earning the glare of both reluctant friends.

“She started it,” Mingyu insists, turning to Minghao. “Back me up, man.”

Minghao laughs, feeling inexplicably light. It’s like bubbles are filling his chest cavity. “Not my problem.” He knocks back his drink and stands up. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I have classes tomorrow.”

“So soon, hyung?” Hansol asks, but he’s not really paying attention to Minghao. There’s a smile – almost a smirk – on Hansol’s lips as Seungkwan whispers something into his ear. Whatever it is, the Chinese man doesn’t want to know.

Minghao shrugs. “Can’t afford to miss classes.”

Minghao says his goodbyes, waving to those that are further away. He’s not lying about class tomorrow, but it’s not until the afternoon. No, he just wants some time to himself to bask in the joy of having a date with a cute girl on Friday.

As he’s leaving the club, he indulges himself in a little happy dance once he’s out of sight. He’s not saying he has a crush on Junhui… but he kinda has a crush on Junhui.

Junhui looks up just as she sees her the cute little Dongbei boy wave goodbye. She smiles, hiding it in her drink. He’s cute, among other things. Ballsy as – or at least more ballsy than he looks. He’s at the exit when he… shakes his hips?

She blinks, lips twitching when she realises he’s dancing. It’s completely out of beat with the music, so he’s dancing to the beat in his head. He ends it with a fist pump and it’s so goddamned adorable that she giggles.

Jihoon nudges her and she tears her eyes away. “What?” Junhui asks, not unkindly. “Finally pulled yourself from your lame boyfriend?”

“Haha,” Jihoon says sarcastically. “Don’t start getting jealous on me now, Junhui. And what was that about?”

“What was what?” Junhui sips her drink, ignoring her best friend’s smirk.

Jihoon laughs lightly. “You like him.”

Junhui shrugs, making a noncommittal sound in the back of , but the curve of her lips is telling. She hasn’t been this excited about a date since… well, since high school, at least. She knows the image she gives off – of the cold, slightly dangerous, just a little bit too good for you girl. It’s why Mingyu is so apprehensive about her; you flip a man once and he thinks you drink souls for breakfast.

“He’s cute,” she finally answers and a satisfied smile quirks Jihoon's lips.

I think I could like him.

“Good for you.” Jihoon’s smile is genuine; she only wants the best for Junhui and that's a good thing.

I'm happy for you.