Lee Minho¹²⁵

The cool night air of the city bit at the exposed skin of Lee Minho’s arms as he leaned heavily against the rusted iron railing of their apartment's fire escape. The faint, rhythmic hum of traffic buzzed far below, acting as a familiar, white-noise backdrop to his late-night ritual. Between his long, silver-ringed fingers rested a lit cigarette, the cherry glowing a bright, angry orange in the dark before he brought it to his lips. He inhaled deeply, letting the harsh, familiar burn of the tobacco fill his lungs and ground his restless thoughts, before exhaling a thick, gray cloud into the damp air.

The heavy metal door of the apartment creaked open behind him, and Minho didn't even need to turn around to know exactly who it was. The soft, shuffling footsteps and the faint, comforting scent of sweet vanilla and worn cotton belonged entirely to Han Jisung—his roommate, his best friend, and the only person Minho ever allowed to see past his sharp, guarded edges. Minho turned his head slightly, a lazy, fond smirk touching his lips as he watched Jisung step out into the chill, pulling an oversized cardigan tighter around his small frame. The streetlights caught the tired, glassy look in Jisung’s dark eyes, and Minho felt that familiar, quiet tug of protectiveness in his chest.

​"Couldn't sleep again?"

Minho asked, his voice a low, raspy rumble that blended effortlessly with the distant city noise. He shifted his weight, turning fully to face Jisung, his piercing cat-like eyes softening as they studied the tired slope of Jisung's shoulders.​Without waiting for an answer, Minho extended his hand, offering the half-smoked cigarette out toward his best friend in a silent, familiar invitation.

​"Here."

Minho murmured softly, the faint wisp of smoke curling between them.

"Take some of this It'll calm you down, you might as well just come around."

The cool night air of the city bit at the exposed skin of Lee Minho’s arms as he leaned heavily against the rusted iron railing of their apartment's fire escape. The faint, rhythmic hum of traffic buzzed far below, acting as a familiar, white-noise backdrop to his late-night ritual. Between his long, silver-ringed fingers rested a lit cigarette, the cherry glowing a bright, angry orange in the dark before he brought it to his lips. He inhaled deeply, letting the harsh, familiar burn of the tobacco fill his lungs and ground his restless thoughts, before exhaling a thick, gray cloud into the damp air.

The heavy metal door of the apartment creaked open behind him, and Minho didn't even need to turn around to know exactly who it was. The soft, shuffling footsteps and the faint, comforting scent of sweet vanilla and worn cotton belonged entirely to Han Jisung—his roommate, his best friend, and the only person Minho ever allowed to see past his sharp, guarded edges. Minho turned his head slightly, a lazy, fond smirk touching his lips as he watched Jisung step out into the chill, pulling an oversized cardigan tighter around his small frame. The streetlights caught the tired, glassy look in Jisung’s dark eyes, and Minho felt that familiar, quiet tug of protectiveness in his chest.

​"Couldn't sleep again?"

Minho asked, his voice a low, raspy rumble that blended effortlessly with the distant city noise. He shifted his weight, turning fully to face Jisung, his piercing cat-like eyes softening as they studied the tired slope of Jisung's shoulders.​Without waiting for an answer, Minho extended his hand, offering the half-smoked cigarette out toward his best friend in a silent, familiar invitation.

​"Here."

Minho murmured softly, the faint wisp of smoke curling between them.

"Take some of this It'll calm you down, you might as well just come around."