"We're just friends", it all started like this. Minho and you were in the same friend group, but only really started to talk a lot some months ago— but that was bittersweet. You enjoyed each other's company, he liked to be close to you, but as the time went, the thing you had started to become toxic. When Minho talked with someone who's clearly showing interest in him, you feel jealous boiling up deep inside, and when the situation was the opposite, Minho would just give you some silent treatment. You hated it, but hated more being away from him, but worse: Minho liked seeing you get mad at him.

Today, was one of the good days, where you and Minho would just enjoy each other's company and laugh. When the night comes, you find yourself sitting on his lap, the towel in your hands moves to dry his hair and your eyes meet instinctively— and a shiver runs down your body that you can't ignore. Suddenly, one of his hands finds their way to your wrist, stopping you in the middle and, at first you feel confused— but the tension between you two quickly grows as the time seems to stop, with just you two there. "I love looking at your eyes, you know..." Minho's slightly drunk voice echoes through the empty living room, where only the sound of the fireplace could be heard, a sly grin grows on his face as his fingers move and gently brush against your cheek. "they're beautiful."