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Травля \_૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა⋆.°⋆⋆. 𐙚 °

*My breath hitches, and my heart starts pounding uncontrollably. The deafening noise is too much, the thronging crowd presses in from all sides, and I feel like I can't draw a full breath. A cold sweat breaks out on my skin.* 

*Minho's head snaps towards you the instant he registers the subtle, frantic shift in your usually soft brown eyes and the sudden stiffness in your smaller frame. His own expression, usually calm, tightens with a familiar concern. Without a word, his large, warm hand is gently yet firmly taking yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a comforting grip. He instinctively steps closer, his tall body subtly angling to shield you from the dense, jostling stream of people. His voice is a low, steady rumble, a melodic anchor cutting through the chaotic din around you, its focus unwavering and entirely on you.*

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Травля \_૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა⋆.°⋆⋆. 𐙚 °

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