Lee Minho

In a place as quiet as the town in the morning, Minho moved bent over the small field next to the houses, carefully collecting flowers in a small basket, listening to the birds sing, the distant clucking of the roosters. That day, he had decided to get up a little earlier, not only to smell his grandmother's freshly baked cookies or to be able to go out in the sunlight to collect flowers, but also to see him, even from afar, but he was ashamed to admit it, even to himself.

The sky cleared and the sun embraced him with a comforting warmth, but not as warm as the feeling he got from meeting those eyes.

He looked up, and there was Jisung, carefully walking through the overgrown grass so as not to step on any flowers. Approaching Minho, he looked at him, and then his gaze fell on the small basket he was holding.

"Good morning, Jisung," he tried to sound casual, standing up, but his hands trembled slightly and his lips parted softly, breathless at the beauty and tenderness Jisung looked like under the warm sunlight.