𝐴𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝒉𝑖𝑛𝑒 // 𝐿𝑒𝑒 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝒉𝑜

twenty five.

It hadn't occurred to Minho that Haneul usually cut her alarm off before it managed to wake him. For whatever reason, though, it hadn't stopped blaring for over five minutes.

Grumpily, the demon–still fully dressed–rolled off the couch and trudged into her bedroom, pointing a hand at the device and allowing a stream of raw power to blast from his finger and into the clock, rendering it to small plastic shards.

Minho scratched his head, noticing that Haneul wasn't in her bed, the sheets still mussed and rumpled. A quick grazing of his hand over the cool fabric told him she'd been up for a while already.

"Haneul, stop hogging the bathroom," he called, thumping on the door with a light fist. "It might be the weekend but you can't spend the whole morning on your phone in there."

There was no response. Minho frowned, knocking on the door once again only for it to give slightly. His heart skipped a beat as pushed the door open completely, darting in to give the bathroom a once over. Haneul wasn't in there.

Hurriedly, Minho rushed out to the kitchen, sure that he just hadn't heard Haneul start making breakfast in there and that she was on the floor drinking coffee per usual. Alas, no sign of her in there either.

Minho almost tore the house apart, looking in any and every possible place Haneul might be, but even her scent was fainter. She hadn't been in the house for several hours.

Placing his hand on his bracelet, Minho focused, clearing his mind of anything but the girl. Images of her filled his mind: her hair falling over her shoulder as she turned to laugh, fingers toying with a favorite necklace, the way she would look out the window at nothing in particular.

But they were all memories. Minho had no current read on Haneul or her whereabouts.

He tried to tamp down the fury growing inside him, Minho really did. Regardless of his efforts, the demon could feel his body temperature rising, grinding his teeth in an effort to remain in control.

"This fucking girl."

     It was low priority in the moment, but Minho still grabbed a jacket and threw it on before sprinting from the building, unmasking his wings and shooting up into the sky. He was past caring if a mortal spotted him, they always saw what they wanted to anyway.

     Eyes closing, Minho conjured the image of her in his mind again, taking deep breaths to remain steady in his ascent to the clouds.

There was something Minho hadn't told Haneul. The bracelets they shared didn't have as much effect on his ability to locate her as the girl thought–they only amplified the signal so he could save her with speed. Minho didn't really need the damn jewelry.

His mind raced, flipping through the scents and images of thousands of women in the city. Height, skin tone, age. Narrowing down the details until–

There she was.

Eyes flying open, Minho veered left and inbetween two building, his wingspan almost clipping the sides as he made his landing.

As he hid his wings from view once again, Minho tried to rearrange his expression into a less hostile one, even though he knew it would fail miserably.

A few passersbys' gazes trailed after the demon as he strutted down the sidewalk, his own eyes meticulously scanning each and every storefront as he searched for the one his ward was currently in. Minho couldn't care less if he was drawing attention; besides, if anyone got in his way, he could blow off steam on them first.

     Finally, the store he was searching for came into view, the faded lettering greeting him solemnly. Minho balled his fists as he shoved the door open.