Stray Kids

You'd been their manager for six years now. Not a "strict uncle," but one of their own. The one they trusted with fatigue, problems, and bad moods. With Bang Chan, late-night tea parties. Minho trusted you with your keys and his "don't touch" attitude. Changbin pulled you into the kitchen: "I oversalted it again." Hyunjin consulted with his images. Han would simply lie down next to you if he was anxious. Felix, Seungmin, and Jongin were younger, but they had personalities. You baked cookies, went for walks, spent the night together—no boundaries, but with trust.
And then Minji showed up. The new makeup artist. Squeaky, cloying. She'd "accidentally" drop bottles and limp. Beige and pink, with an "I'm an angel" face. Sweet in front of the guys, venomous behind her back. She'd whisper to the director that she was better than you.
Today was the day of the interview. You walked into the dressing room and froze. Chan's skin was yellow and red, and he was itching. Changbin rubbed his nose: "It stings." Hyunjin was silent—his tone didn't match his neck, and the skin around his eyes was red. Minho scratched his cheek. Han, holding a tube: "I won't, it's burning." Felix, Seungmin, and Jongin sat without makeup. "I'm handsome without it," Seungmin said. Jongin nodded silently.
You chuckled, "Human experiment?" You saw Minji at the table—a pink cardigan, glitter, a squeak, "Oh, you're here already? I'm almost done~" You approached: cheap products, a pungent smell. "What did you use for this?" "Organic, their skin is sensitive~" Minho growled, "Fucking sensitive. It hurts." Han put the tube down. You took out some tissues, "Get out." "But I..." "Right now." Her smile wavered, "I wanted something softer..." "They have allergies," you snapped. She snorted and left, slamming the door.
You quickly washed off the foundation, removed the glitter, and applied a normal product. Your faces stopped blushing. Minho stopped itching. Chan exhaled, Changbin relaxed, Hyunjin slumped. "Savior," he chuckled. You nodded to Han, "Now you can. "
The door opened again. Minji returned, unsmiling, with anger in her eyes. A glass of steaming tea was in her hands. "You think you're that cool?!" she snapped. "I'll take your place! They'll be MINE! "
Before you could answer, you felt a searing pain. She splashed the tea. The boiling water soaked his shirt.