"When you win?" He laughed, bright and genuine, his whole face transforming with delight at my confidence. "That's adorable. Hold onto that delusion. It's cute."
"Call me cute again and I'll throw this controller at your head." I warned, but I was smiling too, something in my chest feeling lighter than it had in years. The race started, and I immediately drove off the edge of the track.
"Oh my god." Tae-min's voice was strangled, caught somewhere between laughter and genuine distress as he watched my character plummet. "Oh my god, how did you even do that? The race started two seconds ago."
"The controls are possessed!" I mashed buttons frantically as my character respawned and immediately crashed into a wall, the screen flashing with failure notifications. "This is rigged! You gave me a broken controller!"
"The controller is fine!" He was wheezing now, tears forming at the corners of his eyes, his whole body shaking with barely contained laughter. "You're holding it upside down! Keira! How is that even possible?"
I looked down at my hands. He was right. "In my defense, it looked correct."
"It's a standard controller shape!" He reached over and rotated it in my hands, his fingers brushing against mine, still shaking with suppressed giggles. "There! Now try not to drive into the sun or something."
"There's a sun I can drive into?" I perked up, genuinely interested in this possibility. "That sounds more fun than the actual race."
"Please just try to finish above last place." He begged, still laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. "Please. For my sanity." I tried. I really did. I hit a banana peel, spun out, got hit by three shells in rapid succession, and finished dead last by a margin so large it was almost impressive.
"You know what? I respect it." Tae-min wiped his eyes again, still giggling intermittently, his cheeks flushed from laughing so hard. "That was historically bad. Like, record-setting. I'm going to tell stories about this."
"Tell anyone and I'll tell them about your ramen shrine." I threatened, slumping back against the couch with exaggerated defeat.
"It's not a—" He cut himself off, sighing in resignation. "Fine. Mutually assured destruction. I accept these terms." He cleared his throat, visibly composing himself with effort. "Now. My question."
"Make it quick." I crossed my arms, affecting boredom even as curiosity pricked at me. "I need time to plot my revenge."
"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?" He leaned forward eagerly, like a kid waiting for a bedtime story, his eyes bright with anticipation.
I pretended to think about it, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "I once let a guy with ramen cup trophies think he could beat me at video games."
"That's not—" He huffed, but he was grinning, unable to maintain any real indignation. "Real answer. Come on."
"Fine." I tapped my chin again, actually considering it this time, sifting through years of awkward memories. "I once fell off a stage during a school presentation. Full-on tumbled into the audience. In front of my crush."
"That's amazing." His eyes went wide with delight, practically sparkling with schadenfreude. "Did you cry?"
"I laughed so hard I snorted." I admitted, feeling my cheeks heat at the memory that still made me cringe. "Which was somehow worse. Like, the fall was bad, but the snorting? That haunts me."
"Snorting is underrated." He said it like it was a genuine opinion, nodding sagely as if dispensing wisdom. "I think snorting is charming. It shows authenticity."
"You would think that." I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling despite myself. "Okay, rematch. I demand a rematch." Four races and four increasingly humiliating losses later, I finally won — by a hair, and only because a blue shell hit Tae-min right before the finish line.
"KARMA!" I threw my hands up, nearly launching the controller into his monitor, my victory dance completely lacking in dignity. "SWEET, DELICIOUS KARMA!"
"That was LUCK!" He protested, but he was laughing, clearly not actually upset despite his outraged expression. "You literally came in last place three times! You don't get to celebrate one fluke!"
"Watch me celebrate." I did a little victory dance on the couch, completely ridiculous, not caring at all how stupid I looked. "Watch me. I'm the champion. The ramen cups bow to me now."
"The ramen cups bow to no one." He grabbed a pillow and threw it at me, which I caught triumphantly and hugged to my chest like a trophy. "Fine! Ask your question! Do your worst!"
"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done?" I turned his own question back on him, grinning at his exaggerated groan of protest.
"That's my question!" He threw his hands up in disbelief. "You stole my question!"
"Loopholes, baby." I hugged the pillow tighter, savoring my victory. "Now spill. I want cringe. I want secondhand embarrassment so bad I want to crawl out of my skin." He was quiet for a moment, the playfulness fading into something more real, his expression shifting as he considered his answer. Then his ears went red — genuine embarrassment this time, not teasing.
"During our debut stage, I forgot the choreography." He said it quietly, his voice losing its usual brightness, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Completely blanked. For about eight counts, I just stood there while everyone else danced around me."
My teasing instinct faded immediately, sensing the real pain underneath. "That doesn't sound that embarrassing. It's live TV, stuff happens?—"
