mingi is going to marry you someday. he's sure of it.
although, if he said this to anyone they would find it ridiculous - this guy isn't even dating you. yet, he already has your entire future planned out in his head. a future where he is your husband.
now you are perched on the bathroom counter with your legs dangling. β "do you really want me to do this?" you ask, a white towel spread across your lap - in the utmost hope it will prevent you from making an absolute mess.
mingi stands between your knees. face freshly splashed with warm water, cheeks pink. he's clean, hair wet and scent of his shampoo hanging in the air. he is still shirtless, a towel around his waist.
β "i do," he answers. already imagining how beautiful you'd look in your wedding dress. the music. the place. he has everything in mind already.
you smile, gentle and nervous as you reach for the shaving cream. you squirt a generous amount on your palms. your hands approach his face carefully. you smooth the cream over his jaw with an impeccable focus and care. he closes his eyes. breathes as you touch him.
he doesn't want this moment to end. he wants to stay there, with the weight of your touch on his skin. with your face close. knees squeezing his hips. he tilts his head obediently as your hand rests under his chin. the razor in your hand approaches his neck.
β "i could kill you right now," you giggle under your breath. i'd still love you, he wants to say. he decides to not open his mouth. he can't talk. not when you are so close, when he is at the urge of spilling his feelings for you - just because of your touch.
it's surprising how good you are at this. you drag the razor down his cheek with the perfect pressure, as if you've done this all your life.
mingi flinches. chasing the thoughts in his head.
β "are you okay? did i hurt you?" you ask, obviously worried at the sound of your voice. mingi opens his eyes. yours meet his immediately. your face is pretty - painted with worry. his stomach turns with affection. strong enough to feel like gravity.
β "no-no... you're doing good, you're..." you furrow your eyebrows, confused. he continues, breathing out, "you're perfect."
your eyebrows flicker up in sheer surprise. he thinks he sees you blush, but he can't trust his instincts at the moment. he just knows that you are pretty and is only sure of how much he wants to kiss you.
β "close your eyes," you mutter, focusing back on your job. and he does, without asking any questions. when you are bossy like that, he wants to build you a house with his bare hands. even more so.
he can't stop staring at you, upon his eyes open. his eyes shoot pink hearts at you while you clean him up, warm towel on his face and your hands rubbing balm on his skin.
he doesn't move. even when everything is done. β "i finished," you giggle.
he blinks, eyes fluttering upen when he opens them after a millisecond. during that short period of time, he imagined himself getting on one knee, with a tiny box in his hand.
when you get married, he'll ask you to help him shave all the time. β "i know," he breathes out.
is it him or you who leaned in first? he doesn't know. but he's glad someone finally did.
he feels it, your grin, when he gets a taste of your lips. he doesn't regret skipping his elaborated plan when your warm hand touches his naked shoulder. or when you cup his smoothened jaw. mingi holds onto the bathroom counter for dear life, your legs wrapping around his hips making his knees go weak. he's too shy to reach out, to put his hands on your precious skin. until you wrap your arms around his neck. only then he allows himself to press his palm against your back.
β "i did a great job," you say between a kiss. shamelessly complimenting your work. his lips are attached to yours, barely letting you pull away in the slightest to speak. even when he answers, "yeah, you did," against your mouth.
and god, the way you kiss drives him crazy. give him a few months. he'll put the prettiest ring on your finger, he can promise that.