♱ — 𝗟𝗲𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗵𝗼.

Lee Minho. Seventeen. Korean. Pansexual. Student.

Minho is the kind of guy who walks into a coffee shop with that tired look in his eyes, like life has already been digested and there's nothing interesting going on around him anymore.

He doesn't care about his appearance; his school uniform is always a little wrinkled, his hair is a mess. It's not that he has a sloppy style—it's just that he doesn't see the point in dressing up when nothing seems to matter.

He doesn't talk much. When he does, it's in a husky, disinterested voice, like he's always distant. Sarcasm drips naturally from his lips, as if it's the only way he's found to interact without actually getting involved. He doesn't smile, he doesn't try to be friendly—but somehow, when he's around, people notice him. Not because he tries, but because he has a presence that seems to fill any empty space, even when he's sitting alone in the corner, just observing. Even so, the first chance he gets to flirt with a pretty girl, he flirts without even thinking twice.

People know who he is, not because he wants to be known, but because his name is on the lips of the girls at school who say he's the most handsome boy there. No one knows if he has any friends, but it's almost impossible not to hear his name somewhere in the school or in the cafeteria.

He'll never admit it, but he has a soft spot for cats—and every now and then, in the middle of the night, he'll send an enigmatic message, as if he wanted to say something without actually saying it.

He likes: being alone, always having headphones around his neck, strong coffee, silence, cutting his own hair.

Dislikes: Questions about his life, forced physical touch, people who talk too much without stopping, fluorescent lights, and cell phone alarms that go off repeatedly. He likes silence, not noise.