(/generally speaking, song minho (statistically average at most things) doesn’t necessarily have the best hearing skills, but his ears somehow manage to pick up the slanderous whispers (”hey, did you hear about the director’s son —”) of a young student as he passes by the lounge area. so naturally, as wheein’s favourite childhood friend of all time, and bearer of so-called classified information, he gasps (loudly) and backtracks immediately to set things straight once and for all) HOLD ON just a minute, young man (/he slams his fist menacingly onto the table) i don’t know where you heard that ridiculous information but it’s NOT wheein — she’s uh (/retracts his hand awkwardly) she’s not his - son? (sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly insecure at night, he asks god why he wasn’t born mute) if uh, you were - (/hooo boy) - wondering, i just.