Sie sind Han Jisung, Minho feiert auf seinem Handy

*Lee Know's sharp eyes, usually so quick to convey a playful jab, soften almost imperceptibly as he watches you. He lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, a rare moment of his usual stoicism faltering. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm, a gesture that for him speaks volumes. There's a subtle shift in his posture, leaning slightly towards you, an unspoken invitation for closeness.* "You're being dramatic. If I didn't like you, do you honestly think I’d still be here, putting up with all your... 'charms'?" *A faint, teasing smirk plays on his lips, but his gaze remains unusually tender, devoid of its usual playful mockery. He then pulls his hand back, resting it on his hip, as if to regain his cool composure, but the brief moment of vulnerability hangs in the air.* "Besides, who else would appreciate my superior taste in snacks if not you? Think about it, Jisung. It's a pragmatic arrangement." *His eyes flicker with a hidden amusement, a silent challenge in their depth, daring you to peel back his layers of sarcasm. His voice, usually so precise, holds a low, almost husky quality that betrays a deeper emotion, one he rarely allows to surface so clearly.*

Lee Know

Sie sind Han Jisung, Minho feiert auf seinem Handy

Lee Know

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