Minho’s focused gaze landed on the shrouded window pane. His dark eyes were wide; restless. So, too, was his body. He was perched on the white leather sofa, his fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest, his right foot tapping irregularly on the hardwood floor. Lifting his free hand to his forehead, he stopped momentarily, remembering his new haircut, meaning he didn’t have to constantly sweep his fringe out of his eyes. Realizing this, he clenched his hand into a fist, his expression hardening. He wished he was more involved in the promotions for ‘Lucifer’, but thanks to his ruptured calf muscle the other members were in the hall, practicing the new dance – without him. Perhaps another member would not feel like such a burden, but Minho did. In the back of his mind he wondered if the other members of SHINee resented him for it. He had never properly apologised to them, there was simply no right opportunity for such a conversation. Minho’s body tensed up now as he tried to push those nagging thoughts into the back of his mind, but they would not leave. Letting out a groan of frustration which broke through the silence of the dorm, he stood abruptly. His tall frame became apparent immediately, his dark skinny jeans complimenting his long, slender legs. Despite seeing the droplets of rain hit the window, Minho decided he would go for a walk to attempt to clear his tired head.
‘Perhaps I ought to have worn something with a hood,’ Minho found himself thinking no more than 10 minutes later as he meandered aimlessly through the wet street. It was still relatively early, so not many people were around, and those that were simply walked briskly past him to avoid the rain. They didn’t even look at the idol, their heads turned downwards to avoid the heavy falling rain. Shoving his cold hands into his jeans pocket, Minho shook his hair out quickly, somewhat resembling a dog as the drops flew from each straight lock of black. He didn’t know where he was going, and the street didn’t look all that familiar, but that didn’t bother him. He was trying to escape his own thoughts, and that’s all that mattered right now.
After a short while, the rain turned to a downpour, one that even he could not endure. Remaining silent, he began to sprint to the nearest shelter – a bus stop. However he regretted this instantly. Sitting down on the bench, he winced inwardly as the pain shot up his leg. He reached down and gripped it in an attempt to block out the pain, but as he did, he felt a pair of eyes on him. Minho looked up hesitantly, a small raindrop falling from his eyelashes. His eyes met those of another, though he was mildly surprised to find the ice-blue western eyes staring back at him. The girl was giving him an inquisitive look, her lightly freckled nose scrunching up slightly. A moment later, the disgusting stench of tobacco entered Minho’s nostrils, and his nose mimicked that of the girl’s. He saw the cigarette in her hand, and instinctively stared at it disapprovingly, though he said nothing.
“It’s not a crime to smoke.”
Minho’s eyes widened as he heard the girl’s English accent come strongly through her Korean. He bowed his head away, embarrassed for having been rude, still remaining silent. However his expression became one of disdain yet again as the girl exhaled the smoke – quite cheekily – in his direction, causing the taste to become trapped in his throat. Spluttering slightly, Minho removed his hand from his leg and covered his mouth momentarily, looking at the foreign girl again. She was smirking devilishly at him, her feet propped up on the bench, causing her to become a tiny, skinny ball. Her ripped jeans exposed her pale legs, and Minho noticed her trainers looked slightly scruffy. Actually, the girl herself appeared as quite scruffy. Her blonde hair was thrown messily into a short ponytail and her eye-makeup was slightly smudged from the rain. Despite all this, Minho could see she was attractive. Her cheekbones were defined; her eyes bright and round; her skin clear, yet he felt she was tainted by the cigarette she held between her slender index and middle finger. He sat up straighter now, tempted to grab the cancerous stick from her hand and stamp it out, but suppressed the urge. Pondering his response for a moment, Minho’s face remained indifferent, much to the girl’s annoyance. She muttered something in English that he couldn’t understand, but from her tone he didn’t think she was saying anything nice.
“But it is bad for your health,” Minho said eventually, his deep voice without a hint of patronisation or condescending. To his dismay, however, the girl merely scoffed at him and let out a quick laugh. Only then did Minho begin to wonder why she had not drawn attention to the fact that he was Choi Minho of SHINee. Usually that would be the first topic of any conversation with a stranger. Briefly licking his dry lips, Minho became intrigued. Perhaps since she was foreign she didn’t know of the group. He watched her now with a silent curiosity, his gaze piercing hers, emanating his famous ‘Flaming Charisma’. Taking another drag, her expression faltered. Minho hoped that perhaps his serious eyes would convince her to throw it away, and that they did. Exhaling one last cloud of smoke, the girl hesitantly flicked away the cigarette with a look of disgruntlement. “Happy?” The cigarette butt rolled dejectedly onto the damp road, wisps of smoke still billowing from it in the increasing wind.
Minho couldn’t help but noticed that the girl’s eyes followed it with a look that could only be interpreted as longing. He knew it was a terrible habit, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for her. She looked a bit… feeble. As a gust of wind blew, Minho felt a chill run down his spine and watched as the girl shivered, her hands clutching at her own arms in an attempt to keep warm. Feeling the need to b