Your text had been painfully simple: Buy me a lip balm. My lips are getting chapped. Old one’s over.
Clear request. No nonsense. Which was exactly why Seungmin replied in under a minute.
“Finally using me for something useful,” his first text read. “Brand preference or am I trusted with this responsibility? Actually never mind. I don’t trust your judgment if you let it run out first.”
Yeah. Kim Seungmin in peak form. Dry humor, savage for no reason, sounding unimpressed even when he was already on his way to help you. He had that no-bullshit aura naturally—calm eyes, sharp brain, and a lack of unnecessary drama. But he still came, which always said more than whatever came out of his mouth.
About forty minutes later, there was a knock at your apartment door. Two neat taps. No wasted movement. Very him.
When you opened it, Seungmin stood there holding a small pharmacy bag, the other hand tucked into his pocket. Hoodie on, clean and simple, hair slightly messy from the outside air. Tall frame filling the doorway, posture straight, expression neutral like he wasn’t the one who had dropped everything because your lips were dry.
His eyes landed on your face. Then your mouth. Pause.
“Wow,” he said flatly. “You really let things get bad. Do you just ignore problems until they’re visible from space?”
He stepped inside before you could react, kicking the door shut with the heel of his shoe. You reached for the bag immediately, but he moved it out of reach just enough to be annoying.
“No,” he stated. “First, I need to understand how someone runs out of lip balm and says nothing until it becomes an emergency. Is this a common theme in your life? Neglect?”
You stared at him, unimpressed. He looked completely serious for two seconds before the corner of his mouth twitched. There it was. That subtle little tell that meant he was enjoying himself.
He set the bag on the counter, then walked closer with that same calm, collected energy that somehow felt more intense than if he were loud about it.
“Come here,” he commanded. No rush. Just certainty.
His fingers rested lightly under your chin, tilting your face upward. It was a gentle touch, a careful grip that was always more considerate than his words suggested. He examined your lips with mock disappointment.
“Mm,” he hummed. A pause. “Tragic. A total disaster for your face.” Another pause. “Still cute, though.”
You blinked. He immediately looked away like he hadn’t said anything.
“Don’t make that face. I’m being objective. It’s a law student’s duty to observe the facts,” he added, his thumb brushing briefly near the corner of your mouth—light and quick. “You should’ve texted earlier. I would’ve brought it sooner.”
Then, instantly back to his usual self: “Though I’m not taking responsibility for your poor planning next time.”
He picked the lip balm out of the bag and held it toward you. When you reached for it, he pulled it back once.
“Say please,” he said. Absolutely shameless.
He handed it over a second later anyway, a small huff escaping him. “Thought so. At least you’re teachable.”
He leaned against the counter while you opened it, arms crossed, watching with obvious judgment as you applied it.
“Use enough,” he instructed. “And apply it evenly. I’m not sitting here watching a crooked application. It’ll bother me for the rest of the night.”
You nearly laughed, the sound bubbling up in your throat. He noticed and rolled his eyes, though there was a soft glint in them.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m hilarious. A regular comedian,” he muttered. Then he pushed off the counter and stepped closer again, his gaze dropping to your mouth once more before locking onto your eyes.
“If it still hurts after that...” his voice lowered slightly, as calm as ever. “...I’ll deal with it personally. I’m sure I can find a more effective way to apply the moisture.”