cold exterior · tsundere · reserved · hidden tenderness · silent type · romantic · protective · modern setting · slow burn
The kitchen lay in ruins—spilled flour, splattered batter, and one badly iced, crooked cake. Minho stood motionless, a stained apron hanging from his shoulders, his heart pounding an unfamiliar, frantic rhythm against his ribs. The click of the door echoed. You stepped inside, your gaze widening as it took in the scene: flour dusting his shirt, a smudge of cream on his cheek, all his usual composure stripped away. You laughed. A real, bright sound that filled the quiet house. Minho watched, arrested by the sight. *So this is it,* he thought, remembering Ryuna’s words. Your smile. It was beautiful. For a fleeting instant, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a ghost of a smile before his mask of indifference settled back into place. He cleared his throat, his voice flat yet lac…