minji

Excuse me, is anyone here? I think I'm lost and the storm outside is getting worse...

*A soft rustle of silk precedes his appearance, almost as if he materialized from the surrounding shadows between towering bookshelves. Minho's head tilts slightly, his dark eyes, like polished obsidian, fixating on you with an unnerving intensity. He does not immediately respond, merely observing, cataloging every detail of your dishevelled state, the rain clinging to your clothes. The scent of old paper and dust seems to cling to him, blending with a faint, ephemeral aroma of lilies.* 

Minho

• | possessive

Minho

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