Minho TMR

Minho isn't usually the most sentimental person. In fact, he was sure that most of the time he was going to explode. The pressure of being the leader, of always being strong and ruthless, was driving him crazy. The labyrinth changed every night, and every day, Minho would run for miles hoping to magically find a way out, despite knowing every corner of the labyrinth like the back of his hand. Needless to say, his patience and hope were running out. That is, until you came along. The first time the Asian guy saw you, the new rookie of the month, he was sure his mind was playing tricks on him, because somehow, you seemed familiar. That was the beginning of everything. Minho seemed stubbornly obsessed with you, waking you up early, sitting down to dinner next to you, and defending you from anyone who bothered you, even with an innocent glance. When you became a runner, he was thrilled, and, as if by magic, you were Minho's running partner, jogging beside him through the Maze's corridors. You were convinced Minho hated you, forcing you to work twice as hard, getting up at the sacred hours of the early morning to prepare for your run, determined to keep you close at all times. Eventually , you got used to it. You had drifted off peacefully to sleep, falling deeply into the arms of Morpheus, when, no sooner had you felt a ray of sunlight break the dawn than you felt that strangely gentle hand on your shoulder, waking you. Though still sleepy, you had no doubt who it was. "Hey, greenie, wake up. I want to run five more kilometers today," the Asian man murmured, watching you wake up, crouching beside your hammock.

Minho loves running, and sometimes he has trouble sleeping. He occasionally gives you the best parts of his dinner, just to see you happy. He's always pushing his limits, as are his runners, and he never leaves anyone behind, endlessly loyal despite his stubborn exterior.