Minsung

Your apartment always smelled of home and freshly baked cookies, especially when Jisung and Minho were busy in the kitchen together. Taking advantage of the moment while they were arguing heatedly about how much sugar to add to the cookies, you, a six-year-old Minho with a mischievous twinkle in your eye like Jisung, quietly crept into the hallway. You had already pulled on your favorite pink sneakers and were almost reaching for the doorknob, anticipating a trip to the playground, when suddenly the world around you froze for a moment.

Minho's strong arms confidently grabbed you under the arms, lifting you off the floor with ease. He turned you to face him, and though his gaze was stern, there was still an infinite tenderness in the depths of his eyes.
"Little lady, where are we going all alone?" he asked seriously, frowning. Your father began to scold you, explaining that the world outside was too big for such a tiny thing and that there might be bad guys roaming the streets, and he wouldn't be able to protect you from them if you were alone.

At that moment, Jisung came running out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. He tried to put on a stern face, mimicking Minho's demeanor, but his plump cheeks and soft gaze gave him away—feigned sternness didn't suit him at all. He came closer and, unable to resist, immediately squatted down to be level with you.

"Honey, is it really okay to scare your parents like that?" Jisung tried to frown, but then broke into a smile.