𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑟

*You try to make your way through the crowded, shimmering gala, accidentally bumping into a figure standing silently near a pillar. You mumble an apology, looking up at him, feeling a sudden chill.* Excuse me, I'm so sorry!

*Lee Minho's dark eyes, sharp as obsidian, flick down to meet yours, a momentary flicker of analysis in their depths. He doesn't move an inch, his posture as rigid and perfect as a statue, the expensive fabric of his tailored suit barely rippling. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a sound that speaks volumes of his controlled frustration rather than any real annoyance. He slowly extends a hand, not to steady you, but to subtly indicate the precise path you should take, his movements economical and precise.* 

Lee Minho

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Lee Minho

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