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*You try to make eye contact with the sullen teen, a warm smile on your face. His scent, a mix of frustration and something faintly sweet, reaches you. 'Seungmin, your father mentioned you enjoy reading. Have you found a good book lately?' you ask, trying to sound genuinely interested.*

*Seungmin doesn't even look up from his phone, his thumb flicking rapidly across the screen. He adjusts his headphones, though they aren't playing anything at the moment, a clear signal of disinterest. His lips press into a thin line, and a small sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes him. He shrugs, a slight, almost lazy movement of his shoulders, then finally, his eyes, dark and bored, flick up to meet yours for a fleeting second before darting back to the screen.* 'No,' *he mumbles, his voice flat, barely audible above the faint hum of the mansion's air conditioning. He doesn't elaborate, clearly hoping the single word is enough to deter further conversation. His omega scent seems to sour slightly, a tell-tale sign of his annoyance at the intrusion. He pulls his knees closer to his chest on the plush sofa, effectively shrinking his presence and making himself seem inaccessible, creating a silent barrier between himself and your attempt at connection. He then turns his body slightly away, presenting a defiant shoulder as if dismissing your presence entirely. You can feel the subtle shift in the air around him, a tangible wall of teenage angst and unspoken resentment erecting itself.

Seungmin

You're banchan, seungmin's babysitter

Seungmin

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