Chapter Forty Three: The Iced-Americano Incident

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『 ⁿᵒ ⁿᵉʷ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ〔⁰〕』

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Minnie_You know what's fun?being violently allergic to sesame and realizing after Haru "generously" brought homemade breadsticks 🙃took meds. lost my voice. like-- completely. gone. mute. kaput.➪ ᴅᴇʟ? [ ʸᵉˢ | ⁿᵒ ]

Minnie_Turns out yeah, antihistamines can snatch your voicethey dry your vocal cords like they're trying to make jerky out of themand here I am, three days sounding like a haunted whistle➪ ᴅᴇʟ? [ ʸᵉˢ | ⁿᵒ ]

Minnie_They let me join the SKZ Code set today tho!!just standby. More like wide-eyed fangirling in the background while trying to look professional➪ ᴅᴇʟ? [ ʸᵉˢ | ⁿᵒ ]

Minnie_I just rememberedI can't even text you about itbecause you're being a mysterious emotionally-constipated enigmaand god, i miss talking to you.but you won't even tell me what your damn middle name is.➪ ᴅᴇʟ? [ ʸᵉˢ | ⁿᵒ ]

Minnie_I hate you.scratch that. no, I don't....I hate that I don't hate you.➪ ᴅᴇʟ? [ ʸᵉˢ | ⁿᵒ ]

×═══ ☃︎ ═══×

[ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴘᴏᴠ ]

It was the kind of SKZ Code shoot where chaos was guaranteed, sleep was optional, and caffeine was mandatory.

The set of Bremen Music Club Trip buzzed like a chaotic beehive: staff darting around with props, one stylus short of a full mental breakdown; Changbin chasing Han because 'you didn't even try to harmonize, you evil raccoon'; Hyunjin draped dramatically across a beanbag, refusing to participate until someone acknowledged his outfit; and Seungmin-- poor, sleepy, chronically over-it Seungmin-- just wanted to exist in silence with his iced Americano.

Which, in that moment, was the only thing keeping his soul tethered to this dimension.

The shoot had been going on for hours. They were deep into fairy-tale mode, having played musical games, all of which required singing, shouting, and pretending they weren't all one mic cable away from a group nap. Seungmin's voice was hoarse, his patience thinner than a mint on a hotel pillow, and the announcement of their North America tour continuation had obliterated any hope he had for a peaceful recharge.

He was tired. Like, 'accidentally started brushing his teeth with face cleanser this morning' tired.

So naturally, when he stepped out of the dressing room-- Americano in hand, earphones in, face blank-- he did not anticipate being clotheslined by a human version of an overworked otter.

The human otter was Nayoung.

Nayoung had approximately five hours of sleep, zero vocal strength, and ten script binders stacked like a leaning tower of chaos in her arms. She didn't see him. Not until it was far, far too late.

Her shoulder clipped his arm.

His iced Americano launched itself out of his hand like it had a vendetta against him, soaring through the air in slow motion before exploding across his chest with the enthusiasm of a firework show on the Fourth of July.

He froze. She froze. The entire hallway froze.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out-- except a tiny wheeze.

And then she bowed. Once. Twice. A third time. It started to resemble a cardio workout. Hands flailing, she tried to mime an apology while frantically pulling a napkin from her sleeve (yes, she had it prepared-- intern survival 101).

Seungmin stared down at his dripping hoodie. A drop of coffee slid from his bangs into his eye. He blinked slowly. His patience, already on its last leg, let out a dramatic gasp and died. "Can you interns not walk like NPCs for one day?"

Nayoung looked up, shocked.

He didn't wait for her to respond. With a huff and a glare sharp enough to slice script paper, Seungmin brushed past her-- squish-squish footsteps echoing with every step like a passive-aggressive coffee puddle-- and disappeared down the hallway.

Nayoung stood frozen. Her mouth formed a perfect 'o'. Then a flat line. Then a full grimace.

NPC?!

The audacity. The actual audacity. She wanted to yell something clever, maybe throw a metaphor about how his attitude had the emotional range of a soggy rice cracker. But alas-- her voice was gone, courtesy of the allergy meds she had to take thanks to a previous food fiasco.

She stomped away, binders still in hand, face burning. 'If being rude was an Olympic sport, that man would have seven golds and a documentary.'

---

Elsewhere on set, Seungmin sat on a stool with a fresh (reluctantly handed) hoodie, arms crossed and scowl on. Hyunjin teased him about smelling like a barista. Felix offered him a cookie. Lee Know told him to 'get a grip, she's probably more scared of you than birds are of Chan's aegyo.'

But Seungmin was not having it. "She looked at me like I poured the coffee on myself."

"She bowed seventeen times," Jeongin said, trying not to laugh. "She was miming 'sorry' like she was auditioning for mime school."

"She had this weird... flailing energy," Seungmin muttered. "Like she was trying to cast a spell or swat a bee."

The boys snickered.

But none of it helped. He still felt soaked in caffeine and annoyance.

Somewhere, in another corner of the set, Nayoung was chewing on her own rage and mortification. He was so rude. And smug. And way too handsome for someone that grumpy. She hoped his socks got wet and he didn't notice until it was too late.

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Last chapter's answer:

Jisung

Quote of the day:It's good for, um, motivation?

Anyways hi, how are you?

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Thanks for readingCYA🖤