The café finally closed an hour later than it should have.
Chairs stacked, lights dimmed, the faint smell of coffee still clinging to his clothes no matter how many times he washed them.
Minho stepped out into the night like someone peeling himself out of a role he’d been playing all day—smiles, soft tones, easy laughter.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence didn’t follow. Seoul never really allowed that. But it was quieter.
Looser.
Like the world had exhaled just a little.
His earphones were already in before he even started walking.
Music filled the space instantly, something soft, something familiar. The kind of song that didn’t demand attention, just… stayed.
His shoulders dropped a fraction, the tension in his body unwinding as he moved through the streets, hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
Streetlights blurred past. Neon signs flickered. The pavement still held the warmth of the day, though the air had turned cooler.
He didn’t rush.
Didn’t need to.
The bus stop came into view, almost empty except for a flickering overhead light and an old bench that had seen better years. Minho stepped under the shelter, leaning back against the pole, head tilting slightly as he let the music take over.
For a moment, it was just him. Just the hum of the city. Just the steady rhythm in his ears. Then—
“—and then the dragon just boom—!”
The voice was loud. Excited. Completely unfiltered.
Minho’s eyes flicked open.
A small family had settled a few feet away without him noticing. The kid, maybe five, was practically vibrating in his mother’s arms, arms flailing as he tried to reenact something that clearly involved a lot of explosions and very little logic.
“It was this big!” the kid insisted, stretching his hands wide.
The dad glanced down at him, playing along, tone amused. “Really? That big?”
“Bigger!”
“Wow. Must’ve been scary then.”
“No! It was awesome!”
The mom adjusted the child on her hip, smiling in that quiet, tired way that didn’t hide how much she adored him. “You were hiding behind me half the time.”
“I was not!”
“You were.”
“I was just… checking if you were okay!”
The dad laughed under his breath. “Of course. Brave protector.”
The kid beamed, completely satisfied with that title.
Minho watched them without meaning to.
His music kept playing, but he wasn’t really hearing it anymore.
There was something… easy about them.
Messy.
Loud.
A little chaotic.
The kid’s voice too sharp, the dad’s replies half-distracted, the mom balancing everything at once.
But it worked.
It just… worked.
His gaze lingered a second longer than it should have.
