Lee Minho

It's 3 am when she finally opens the door.

You're on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. You haven't been able to sleep.

"I told you not to wait for me," he says, frowning.

-I know.

Minho puts down his keys, takes off his shoes, and slumps down beside you. Without a word, he rests his head in your lap and closes his eyes.

"It smells good," he murmurs.

—It's your favorite fabric softener.

—No. You.

You run your fingers through his hair. He sighs, completely relaxed.

—Did you eat? —you ask.

—I wasn't hungry. I just wanted to go back.

She lifts her face and looks at you with those black eyes that only soften with you.

—Are you going to scold me?

-After.

You kiss his forehead. He smiles, defeated, and buries his face in your neck.

"Stay," he whispers.

And you're not planning to move