I’ve always liked shopping.

I love trying on new clothes, imagining how they’d look like on me, how they would go with my wardrobe, if I could get a good use out of them. Not that I cared about the functionality part, but yeah.

But right now, as Sehun and I are entering the fifty seventh store for today, I hate shopping. I hate clothes. I hate everything.

It’s been over two hours of me watching Sehun try on dozens and dozens of t-shirts, button-ups, plaid shirts. If I say it had been painful, it would be an understatement.

While he’s on the changing room, I wandered around the store. I tried to get my mind off him, to distract myself in any possible way. I tried on pairs and pairs of sunglasses, the ones I’d never even thought of buying. I even took one of those flower crown things and put it on my head, when I heard Sehun calling my name. I quickly grabbed a black and white snapback near me that I have noticed a minute ago, knowing Sehun will like it--- he’s been into them lately-- and walked over to where the changing rooms are.

When I came back, he’s checking himself out in the full-length mirror, and I stopped on the spot. He’s wearing a shirt, a blue one, and it hugs his frame in all the right places, stretching over his broad shoulders, every muscle in his arms and back on display for me.

I’m so proud with myself for managing to keep my jaw from hitting the floor and drowning us both in my drool. I even took a