Spam | SKZ ✓

29

Hearing the shower turn off is single-handedly the most nerve-wracking sound I've ever heard.

Talking to Minho over text is one thing; it's simple, easy and even though we know each other's names, it still feels anonymous because we can't see each other's faces.

Video calls are a bit more intense because we can see each other, but it's as easy as setting my phone down if I need to collect myself.

Here, in person, there is no escaping - no hiding. There is something about him, an aura that I noticed when we met backstage, that commands attention and it is impossible to breathe or think clearly when he's that close. It's intimidating and damn near impossible to keep up this facade of being smooth and impenetrable to his charms.

Heh... impenetrable.

Okay, so maybe he's not completely snuffed out the flame.

"Why are you smiling to yourself like that?" Minho's voice breaks into my inner monologue and my gaze snaps up to meet his. His hair is damp, hanging loosely onto his forehead as he gently dries it with a towel.

His new outfit is far more casual and relaxed than his stage outfit, the tight-fitting leather pants and white dress shirt being replaced with loose black jeans and a baggy black t-shirt.

I try not to notice the veins pulsing in his arms as he moves around, throwing the wet towel into a basket by the bathroom door. I promise, I really am trying not to.

But I definitely notice the veins pulsing in his arms as he moves around.

"Stop gawking," he says, shaking his head as he belly flops onto the bed at my feet, landing next to his wireless phone charger.

I stand up, physically not able to be that close to him. He ignores my sudden movements, engrossed in whatever he's looking at on his phone.

"So, food," he says absentmindedly as I open my phone's camera as quickly as I can. One opportunity. One shot. One chance.

"Whatever you want," I say as I snap a picture of my view and put my phone away before he notices my devious deed. "I'm not picky."

"You're doing something," he says with a sigh as he sends a text and puts his phone back on the charger. "I'm assuming it's something annoying."

"When am I not annoying?" I ask, shrugging my shoulders as I sit back down on the bed, careful not to let my foot touch his leg in the process. "What did you order?"

"Food," he says, groaning as he rolls over onto his back, his thigh bumping against my feet. Damn it. "You like the shirt?"

I look down, being rewarded from the sudden movement with a good whiff of the shirt - the smell of Minho. It's the exact same smell that hit me when I hugged him earlier.

He smells like a walk through the forest, like I got up at dawn just to walk through the clusters of trees to watch the fog slowly dissipate around the trunks as the sun rises. But there's also hints of vanilla mixed in as well, bringing just the right amount of softness to the woodsy scent.

Damn. I should be a writer or something.

"Why did you give me this anyway?" I ask, swallowing hard to dissolve the lump in my throat. "I had one on already, you know."

"You kept adjusting it every few seconds so I thought you were uncomfortable," he says, his hands resting on his belly as his eyes close in relaxation.

I snort in laughter, which is enough for him to open one eye and frown as he looks over at me.