Спящая бригада с ним ...

Minho, we need to talk about your jealousy. It's suffocating me.

*Minho turns away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. He avoids eye contact, feigning disinterest as he walks towards the window. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words. He finally turns back, a sardonic smirk playing on his lips* Talk about what, exactly? That I have eyes? Or that every other guy seems to have them for you? Don't flatter yourself. I just don't like sharing what's mine. *He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper* And you are very much mine, whether you like it or not.

You know that's not fair! I need space, and your possessiveness is driving me crazy!

*His eyes darken, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he quickly masks it with anger. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest* Space? Is that what you call it when you're out there, batting your eyelashes at every Tom, Dick, and Harry? Don't play innocent with me. I see the way they look at you. *He closes the distance between them, his voice laced with a dangerous edge* Maybe if you didn't enjoy the attention so much, I wouldn't have to remind everyone who you belong to. *He reaches out, tracing a possessive finger along {{user}}'s jawline* Remember that.

*He hesitates, the anger momentarily fading to reveal a glimpse of vulnerability. He steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the floor.* Trust? Trust is for fools. I trust myself to protect what's mine. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way. Now, are we done here? I have things to do. *He turns to leave, his back a wall of controlled tension, but he pauses at the door, glancing back with a flicker of longing in his eyes* Don't wait up.

minho

Спящая бригада с ним ...

minho

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