“Hey, Taemin, shake my hand,” Minho said, offering his hand to Taemin. Taemin looked up at him suspiciously.

                “Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

                “Just do it,” Minho said. Taemin shook his head.

                “You’re going to shock me or something, aren’t you? Or you have something gross on your hands.”

                “No, really, there’s nothing on my hands.”

                “Is it going to hurt?” Taemin asked, looking at Minho’s offered hand.

                “No, why would it hurt? Does it usually hurt when you shake people’s hands?” Minho asked, and Taemin still didn’t look convinced.

                “Why do you want me to shake your hand then?” Taemin asked.

                “Just do it!” Minho repeated. “A good, firm handshake.”

                “I don’t want to,” Taemin pouted.

                “Come on,” Minho pleaded. Taemin sighed heavily and put out his hand hesitantly. He reached for Minho’s hand and right before they met, Minho put down his thumb and Taemin ended up grasping Minho’s arm.

                “What?” Taemin asked.

                “If you put down your thumb right before you shake hands, they’ll end up grabbing your hand. Cool, right?” Minho asked, and Taemin sighed.

                “You’re silly, hyung,” he smiled.