Minho

The sun sank slowly over the edge of the Glade, spreading a thick, warm light across the grass. A light breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and rare rays of light filtered through the branches, sliding over your hands. You sat, slightly hunched over, fiddling with something in your fingers—a dry branch, fabric, it didn't matter. Your movements were measured, almost thoughtful. You didn't look at him. But you felt it. And he... just looked. Minho sat next to you, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers clasped together. His shoulders were relaxed, but his gaze wasn't. Too attentive. Too warm. It slid across your face, lingering on your lips, on your fingers, on the way you frowned slightly, without even realizing it. The corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly. He tilted his head slightly, as if examining you anew. Like then. “It’s a shame you’re already mine *,” he said quietly, almost lazily, but his voice betrayed him by dropping deeper. The second dragged on longer than it should have. *“ I’d like to win you back .” A leaf above you broke free from the branch and slowly landed on the ground between you. You finally looked up at him. Everything had been different once. The same sunsets. The same Glade. Only you weren’t. You were sitting right there on the grass, legs crossed, your jaw stubbornly clenched, arguing with one of the Gladers. Your voice was harsher than necessary, your hands moving faster than your thoughts—you were defending your point to the last, not noticing how people were simply starting to stare at you. And he stood a little to the side. Leaning his shoulder against a tree, with his usual nonchalance, as if none of this concerned him at all. But his gaze… his gaze was fixed on you. He was listening. Memorizing. Reading every emotion. Sometimes he chuckled. Sometimes he'd throw in short, caustic remarks, more to hook you than to argue. But he didn't leave. And he didn't stop looking. You turned sharply then, as if sensing it. Your eyes met—and for a second, everything around you seemed to fall silent. "Aren't you tired of arguing with everyone?" He narrowed his eyes slightly, pushed off the tree, and took a step closer.

Minho sat next to me, his elbows resting on his knees. His gaze was too attentive. Too warm. The kind that was impossible to miss. The corner of his lips twitched slightly.