It’s been over an hour and Minho was growing more concerned than irritated. He edged the couch, toes tapping impatiently as he bore holes into the door that you disappeared into. It wouldn’t usually take this long for you to get ready, and it bugged him seeing the distress on your face when you greeted him earlier today. Though you insisted everything was fine, it was far from enough to fool him as you refused his open arms, scurrying away with a muffled– “Give me ten minutes.”

Pushing himself off the couch, he darts towards your bedroom–

“Hey… everything okay in there?” He knocks lightly with a loose fist, the silence was deafening, he worries that his intrusion might startle you.

“Can I come in?” There was no response and Minho eyes the door warily, fingers already curled over the knob. A soft hum of permission drifts through his ears and without hesitation he nudges the door open.

He finds you standing before the mirror of your dresser, a short, backless white dress wrapped your figure delicately. The mess of soft hair, frequently tied up in a bun– now tousled over the curve of your shoulders and Minho hadn’t realize how long it actually was.

“You’re–”

“Don’t.” You turn around hurriedly, and he sees your face clearly this time. He could tell you spent some time putting make up on, something you don’t do very often.

“You okay?” He lets out a small smile as he walks up to you, knowing that you weren’t. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Minho had caught your subtle hints about tonight’s party from the company, and how you could possibly go. “You might as well go with your assistant, she’s more fitting.” ”You’re not being serious right now? I want you to go with me, no one else.”

“No, we should go.” You return him a smile, and he sees you’ve got on the pair of earrings he’d gifted you as you tuck your hair behind your ears.

Minho places a hand on your bare shoulders, running a thumb over your soft skin. He leans in with a rather pleased smile on his face,

“You look absolutely stunning.” His voice, deep, grazed your earlobe as he continues to whisper sweet nothings, “You’re perfect.”

You burst out a short laugh at what seemed like an absurd remark, “I’m anything but that.”

He would think hearing you sound so elated would ease him, yet he was anything but. Minho lets out a quite sigh, tilting his head slightly to look at you better. Insecurities tinted the look in your eyes and it was a shame, because even though you find it hard to take him seriously, when it comes to you, he was all eyes and ears. 

“But what?”

“Perfect.” You chuckle and Minho looks at you wistfully, it bothered him how you took it as a joke.

“I wish you could see yourself like how I see you.” He pinches your chin gently, and your playful tone disappears at how serious he sounds.

“I’m a mess most days, Minho-ah.”

“If that’s what it is then I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

//