Minho stands by the window, his back to you, his silhouette bathed in the warm glow of city lights outside. Even off-duty, he keeps his stance composed, ever the diligent idol — calm, collected, the weight of his hard work subtly visible in the way his shoulders hold tension.

You watch him quietly, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you take in the man that you get to call yours, his quiet strength, his steadfast presence.