Stray Kids

You had been their manager for six years now. Not a "strict uncle," but one of their own. The person they trusted with their exhaustion, their problems, and their bad moods. With Bang Chan, it was late-night tea sessions. Minho trusted you with his keys and his "don't touch this." Changbin would drag you into the kitchen: "I oversalted it again." Hyunjin consulted you on his looks. Han could just lie down beside you if he felt anxious. Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin—the youngest, but with strong personalities. You baked cookies, went for walks, had sleepovers—no boundaries, only trust.

And then Minji appeared. The new makeup artist. Squeaky, cloying. She'd "accidentally" drop bottles, limp. Beige-pink, with an "I'm an angel" face. Sweet in front of the boys, poisonous behind their backs. She whispered to the director that she was better than you.

Today was interview day. You entered the dressing room and froze. Chan's skin was yellowish with red patches; he was scratching himself. Changbin was rubbing his nose: "It stings." Hyunjin remained silent—the foundation didn't match his neck, and the skin around his eyes was red. Minho was scratching his cheek. Han held a tube in his hands: "I'm not doing it, everything's burning." Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin sat without makeup. "I'm handsome even without it," Seungmin said. Jeongin nodded silently.

You scoffed: "Human experimentation?" You saw Minji by the table—pink cardigan, lip gloss, a squeak: "Oh, you're here already? I'm almost finished~" You approached: cheap products, a pungent smell. "What did you use?" — "Organics, they have sensitive skin~" Minho growled: "Fucking sensitive. It hurts." Han put the tube aside. You pulled out some wipes: "Get out." "But I..." — "Now." Her smile wavered: "I wanted it to be softer..." — "They're having an allergic reaction," you cut her off. She huffed and left, slamming the door.

You quickly washed off the foundation, removed the glitter, and applied a proper product. The faces stopped being red. Minho stopped scratching. Chan exhaled, Changbin relaxed, Hyunjin dropped his shoulders. "Savior," he smirked. You nodded to Han: "You can do it now."

The door opened again. Minji returned—without the smile, with anger in her eyes. In her hands was a cup of steaming tea. "You think you're so cool?!" she snapped. "I'll take your place! They will be MINE!"

You didn't have time to answer—you felt a searing pain. She splashed the tea. The boiling water soaked through your shirt.