Broken Glass [EXO Kpop Fanfiction]

six

After I told him that little piece of my past, I wonder why I did. Why do I trust him so much when everyone in my world seems to condemn my existence? I wasn't the one who asked to be born. Minseok doesn't treat me any differently after my small revelation, and rather, he just cares even more for me. And I find myself relaxing more and more around Minseok; most of the time, he seemed to be able to tell what was on my mind even without me saying anything, though he didn't always get it right, but I did end up smiling more from it. He always embraced me easily in a hug, and somehow, I felt more at ease because of it.

However, as the days passed by, the snow falling ever more, Minseok's schedule grew busier. His exhibition at the end of January was drawing close and he'd already delayed it due to lack of inspiration. Now that he had a full collection of photos he deemed were just right, his staff members were urging him to complete everything in time; he only had two months left before the exhibition will be opened. That meant leaving me alone in his apartment most of the time, while he left for work, often with an apologetic look and a promise that he would be home in time for dinner.

Once again, today he's heading out for work. Minseok packs up everything he needs into his leather satchel then turns around, looking for something. He spots his coat draped over a chair and slips it on then makes his way to the front door. I'm watching him scurrying about in a hurried manner, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters with my knees tucked inside, wondering why he's rushing around today. Usually, he goes about his days calmly as if he had all the time in the world. But I suppose it's because today, he had woken up late from pulling an all-nighter trying to finish off some documentation.

He looks up, meeting my eyes and smiles, "Do you want to come with me today?" He asks out of the blue. "We can go out for dinner after." I don't have much to do anyway so I nod, getting up from my seat and dashing to get dressed properly; I simply pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, still wearing his sweater and grabbed two scarves. Passing by the full length mirror, I feel that it'd be better if I wear a coat too since a sweater doesn't seem sufficient for the cold outside. So I take mine from the coat rack and walk over to Minseok. I hand one of the scarves to him and kept one for myself. I pull one of the scarves around his neck for him, tucking the ends into his coat and stepped back. "Oh, thanks," he says, his cheeks tinting pink. I step into a pair of comfy sneakers, tying the laces and I'm ready.

He takes my hand and we head outside into the wintry atmosphere, where people are bustling to work in droves or ordering coffees to wake up. The streetlights that line the street are wreathed in Christmas tinsel, bells and other sparkly decorations; the festive day is only a week away and I can really see how people love this time of the year; just the fact that there are so many decorations wherever you turn makes you feel happy inside.

Minseok hails a taxi, rattling off the address quickly then leans back and squeezes my hand. "I can't wait to show you how the hall looks like. It'll be wonderful to have your opinion as well," he gushed with a wide grin, "And I want you to meet my team. They're a great bunch of people who've been wanting to meet you too after they saw my pictures." The tinge of pink already in his cheeks flushed deeper and I felt my heart swell with something foreign.

"Okay," I say in a small voice, but I can feel myself smiling a little from Minseok's own infectious grin and childlike excitement. He really does love his work a lot, I think myself as I glance sideways at him. For the rest of the ride, I'm too busy staring out the window to notice what Minseok was doing. His fingers are still intertwined with mine, the one point of contact between us and my stomach does a little flop in response. I'm probably over thinking things again.

"We're here," Minseok announces, helping me out of the taxi and paying the driver. In front of us is a large art gallery which I assume is where he will be holding his exhibition. He guides me inside where were greeted eagerly by his team. "Good morning, everyone. I brought Lydia along today," he says, turning to give me an encouraging look and a gentle squeeze of my hand. So I step forward and say hello to the five faces I doubt I would remember names to match with. Interaction with people in general is not my forte, but I try anyway and give them each my own version of nicknames in an attempt to at remember who is who.