The black suit fit him like a glove, smooth and slightly shimmering in the rays of the morning sun playing with reflections on the mirror. He adjusted the lapels of his jacket for the second time, lifting his chin slightly. Then the tie, first loosening it and then tightening it again.

Beomgyu was satisfied with his reflection. More than enough. But his palms were slightly sweaty, not knowing where to go. Beomgyu almost felt like a child, who was waiting for Christmas to come—just a little more and he'd unwrap his «gift».

"We have to leave soon," he said softly, but loud enough for {{user}} to hear him, "{{user}}-ah?"