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yeosluvr · 2 years ago

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Perfume - Lee Minho

Featuring: Lee Minho of SKZ

Genre: Angst, a little fluff

A/N; This is an idea I’ve been thinking of for a long time, and is actually part of a series that I’m currently (slowly) working on, so for now, just enjoy the random word spill huhu. Do leave some feedback and reblog

Disclaimer; this is just a fanfiction and doesn’t portray how lee minho or any stray kids member behave irl. sorry for the late updates.

Minho stares at the bottle of perfume now standing - out of place - on the top of his vanity, away from all of his other belongings. It’s cheap perfume, still a quarter to be full, and he doesn’t even remember the brand - maybe there was no brand, to begin with? - but he remembers her being used to coming up here, to his room, lying down on his bed and having breakfast in bed with him, having that cheap perfume stashed in her pocket for emergencies. He remembers the first time he ever officially talked to her - scratch that, it was her who talked to him first. It was about his perfume.

“Where’d you get your perfume?”

He also remembers at the time that it was after his very first breakup - and he even liked her a lot too despite his flirtatious ways- and after that, she came into his life through a simple tap on his shoulder and a seemingly trivial question with a much more trivial intention. She didn’t really expect that it'd hurt to fall in love. He grimaces at the thought and stands up to take the bottle of perfume on the stand.

Twelve months ago, she had come up to him, jet black eyes behind thin rectangular glasses, in a librarian uniform with her name tag stuck proudly on the left side of her vest. He remembers her looking down at her polished leather shoes and the frantic eye language she gave him - the wrong person to ask for help actually since she needed help asking him a question. He chuckles at the memory, and remembers that he answered, “It was a gift from an old friend.”

His ex. Anyone would refer to their ex as an old friend, right?

He could see the surprise and embarrassment eating up on her when she bit her inner cheek and crimson flooded her cheeks, and he thought to himself that he found this girl cute. Awkward, sure, also highly introverted, and not to mention her addiction with books and the school library was beyond what he could fathom, but she was cute nevertheless. Her chuckles rang through his ears, and he found himself smiling over that little action alone.

And without even thinking through, the words passed through his lips.

“Are you free tonight?”

Minho lays down on his bed, legs hanging off the edge as he sighs quietly, closing his eyes, the quarter-full bottle of cheap perfume held tightly to where his heartbeats quicken over a memory he'd do anything to replay.

Waking up to her tidying his room was one of the most wonderful things in life that happened to him. He'd rate her existence as a blessing, God-sent. He had needed this kind of person since the breakup and she was the perfect fit for the requirements.

"So…

You want me to help you forget about her?"

No, certainly not in a dirty way. Not to such a pure, innocent creature as herself, who admitted to never having been asked out on dates or even been in a relationship, although she had embarrassedly confessed to wanting to know what real love feels like.

As if he knew. He scoffed at her request at first, because he thought that he knew what love was. Before the break-up, he thought he knew what it was. Post-breakup? Not very sure. But he wasn't sure as to why he wanted to grant her wish when he saw her looking down to his hands hesitantly.

"I really wanted to know what love is, Minho."

"Okay." He didn't know what drove him to agree after only the second time she asked. After all, it wasn't unknown that Minho was one of the people who were very hard to convince.

Minho looks across his room and finds the tulips she sent him months ago in a vase. One of them is starting to wither, he observes. "Red tulips," she once said to him, he recalls. It's one of his favourite quotes from her still, and he tries to remind himself of her everyday. "To love someone so great is a wonderful gift. I wish I could love and be loved like that.."

He grumbles at the squeaking pipe at the kitchen sink, and the slow flowing of water into his glass, and as Minho impatiently taps his foot on his kitchen tiles, his cousin Felix walks in.

"Hey."

"Morning, cousin." Felix chuckles, and Minho shakes his head at the younger man before he notices that the glass is already full, so he retreats into his room quietly. He doesn't miss the pity in Felix’s eyes as he slowly retreats to his room, not wanting to miss watering the tulips that she gave him months ago.

Climbing up to his upstairs apartment was a routine for her, because God knows how Minho can get freakish headaches in the morning if he wasn't woken up the right way. Minho discovered that she had approached him moderately, just the right amount as to not let the pain rise to his head.

There was a pattern to it too.

Of course, he gave her the spare keys to his apartment so she could help him get up in the morning. He'd groan first, before finding one of her cheeks and pecking it, give her a little smile, and he'd greet her afterwards. "Morning, beautiful," was an accustomed one that even she got used to.

Afterwards they'd be eating their breakfast together, her snuggling into his chest, and he'd make comments about some random reality show that came on TV. An hour before his first class for the day, she'd get up, tidy her clothes and fix her hair before she'd kiss his forehead - her kisses were always longer than his. It made him feel somewhat strange, something stirring inside him that he couldn't name. She'd wish him a great day and to text her if he wanted meals together, and he'd follow her out after he gave her a kiss on her cheeks.

Another thing he got used to doing was to walk her back to her studio after classes and meals. They didn't even talk much on the way back, just comfortable silence and her asking if she could put her hand in his pocket, and later on he'd hold her hand in his pocket. He couldn't explain why he loved it when she simply smiled at this little skinship, but it felt so pleasant and familiar that he didn't even disagree with it.

Were they something more than friends when they had that, he wondered.

Perhaps it was something else. It was also possible that friends would do that. It would be the feelings that come with it that'd be inappropriate, in his opinion. Feelings that made him feel his cheeks go warm, feelings that made him stutter in his words, feelings that simply told him that he wanted her with him always, feelings that told him she deserved better. So he had to shake it away one way or another.

They were friends, he'd remind himself. Very close ones. He'd tease her and she'd smile through it, and truthfully it made him happy that simple gestures that told him that the weird friendship they had didn't go one way made her happy. Simple things in life like buying her her favourite coffee. Remembering to wish her good morning first thing - if she wasn't in his apartment, that is. Remembering to wish her good night.

In truth, he was scared of it.

It grew to be even more frightening when she accidentally left her cheap perfume- the one that he's holding at the moment- in his apartment. He was so curious that he picked up by means of teasing her when they'll be having Literature in a few hours. That was until he smelled it and thought, 'she smelled nothing like it.

She smelled better.'

Literature was fun. She was one of the tutors in their year, and he'd always tease her when she came round to teach his group about literary components. It usually amused him to see her cheeks flare in red and she'd swat his hand in furious embarrassment, but that one specific Literature night class was … he didn't know how to describe it, but he felt all giddy reminiscing that one particular night.

"Ah, hey guys. Need help?"

"I think we're kinda good here, princess." He was the one who answered, and he had ideas in his head that might’ve shown on his face that made Seonghwa choke on his water and Hongjoong had to poke Minho on his shoulder. "Yeah well, stop kissing her in your head, Lee," Hongjoong smirked, and if that didn't make his heart race he didn't know what would. And surprisingly, her face had seemed to be the same shade of a ripe tomato- if it wasn't redder.

And then came the teasing.

He didn't know what drove him. He really didn't know, but the only thing in his mind at the moment was to see her smile goofily. He had to do it, right?

He leaned forward in his seat, closing the proximity between them two, until their breaths mixed with each other - which actually took her by surprise because she was too focused on drawing a mind map on their whiteboard- and said, "You left your perfume in my apartment, sweetheart."

At the sound of his voice so close to her, she whipped her head up to see his smirking lips first, then his incredibly shining eyes - that was what she said to him anyways - and she leaned back. Her face was red. She was stuttering on her words.

It was nice to see he wasn't feeling one-sided about all the arrangement wasn't it?

"I'll see you later, honey," he winked at her.

She nodded, before walking to another group, fanning herself.

Minho really badly wants to cry at the amount of memories that are replaying in his head as he clutches the perfume to his chest. Where it hurts. He'd see her smile, and the glow in her eyes whenever she looks at him. Looked at him. It's getting harder to breathe, so he walks up to his window and for the first time in months, he draws the curtains open.

Senior year was about prom. Of course it was always about prom.

Lee Minho asked her if she'd wanted to be his date- "As friends, of course. Single friends," he laughed- and she had agreed to it. Which led to the agreement that they’d go with matching colours. That time, she made a request for him to take him out shopping for black ties. He'd groaned, actually, but it came out a whimper, then a sigh, when he glanced her way and saw her big hopeful eyes, blinking at him.

"Okay." He smiled.

It didn't help that on the day of said purchase of tie, she'd hurriedly took some cash out of her wallet and handed it over to the cashier before he could even protest. "I'll pay for this," she affirmed firmly, and the cashier squealed over how cute of a couple they were. Which led him to the first of his many regrets in their 'friendship'.

"We're just friends," he chuckled, not noticing the way her smile faltered and the cashier nodded awkwardly at her. By then she felt very weak in her knees, but he didn't really notice it because she was too quick to hide it when he turned to her and asked her if everything's okay. Of course, she'd answer that it was all fine. All very very fine.

He didn't get a good night reply that night.

She seemed okay in the morning, though.

She had told him how excited she was for prom, and when curiosity came to him and urged him to ask her about her gown for the night, she just gave him a plain smile emoji and told him that she wanted to save the surprise for the night. He'd smiled at that comment and had waited patiently for the sun of the day of prom to set.

Minho takes in one breath as he remembers the night where he first sees her in the black gown. He wants to remember taking in the sight of her in that black gown of sequins and the frilly neckline and her face was shaded with the lightest tones of make-up and even her hairstyle was simple, her bangs pulled back in bobby pins, and her hair was pulled back with a flower scrunchie, flowing in a wavy side ponytail.

Beautiful. He tells her, the her in his memory.

Thank you, the her in his memory replies. Same voice, same shyness.

She got him tripping and she didn't even know.

"You look gorgeous, Lee Minho," she smiled.

"Likewise." He bowed his head, knowing full well that in her eyes he'd be very flushed-face in the mere presence of her. In a black gown. With that hairstyle. At that point, he was very confused with the border that separated friendship and something that he'd labelled as 'something more'.

The rest of the night, to him, was a complete haze as he kept his hand firm on her waist, keeping her close to him at all times. He didn't know why he acted like it, but she seemed to not mind, only excusing herself at one point because she needed the toilet. He thought the night went perfectly, and her presence with him had kept him at ease and composed, and he didn't even remember that he used to have someone that wasn't her.

Well actually, that thought was interrupted by a gentle poke on his shoulder, and what greeted his sight - to his shock - wasn't her, but his ex. All in her glorious emerald green dress, all smiley. All beautiful for someone that wasn't him. His heart stopped at the thought and for a moment all he could think of was how pretty she looked. If only she was his.

"Hi, Minho."

"Hey yourself."

A moment of awkward silence passed as she sheepishly grinned at him and he struggled to keep his breaths in check, because he finally remembered what it was that made him stay with the girl in the black gown all along. She was able to make him forget his misery. Had he really used her for his own good? He didn't know he was capable of doing that, but when his stomach turned and flipped and made him feel sick, he realised that maybe, it wasn't love that he felt for the girl in the black gown.

So why was he crying?

So why is he crying?

"You came."

"Yeah." He gulped, not wanting to meet her gaze.

"I saw her just now." She chirped, and from that voice alone he knew she was genuinely happy for him, thinking he had found someone for him. Someone that could make him happier than she did. "She's really pretty isn't she?"

He couldn't speak.

"I'm glad you're happier with her, Minho."

Supposed that she only made him believe in temporary happiness, and not actually him feeling happy with her? The girl in the black gown? Then what should he do? What had he done to himself?

What had he done to her?

"I'll see you around, Minho." She smiled, and before he knew it, she had tiptoed up to his cheek, felt a brief second of a kiss on his cheek, and left without any more words exchanged. He felt slightly ashamed of himself, felt as though he was undeserving of any kind of love at all.

But he didn't know why he'd feel so, so terrible when he looked up to see the huge eyes, those huge, terribly tearful eyes - in terms of trying trying hold back tears from overwhelming - looking at him, who stood in the middle of the room, and her, from the entrance to the hall where the prom was held.

He didn't even know why he felt so broken, felt as though he'd begged her to stay when she let one of her tears fall and wiped the others away with her hand. He was waiting for a slap - some kind of physical pain on any part of his body - as she crossed the room in small steps. But there was nothing.

She'd crossed the room, took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently, and he felt some more tears falling onto his fist.

"Was I not enough, Lee Minho?"

"No, sweetheart," his breath hitches at the memory, and he feels his gut kicking against the walls of his stomach as he says so. "You're more than what I deserve, more than what I asked for," he says to her in his memory. The words that he didn't say to her that night.

"Minho?" Another hand came to hold his knuckles and he felt her shake. And of course, the tears. Waves of slow music echoed against the walls and Minho was so thankful that nobody had noticed her. Or him. Crying.

"Hey." He whispered, bringing his hands to wipe the streams of tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered close to his touch, and he felt the pain throbbing inside him again as he kissed her eyelids. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's dance," he whispered, and his arms went down to her waist as he buried his head in her neck.

She nodded quietly, soft sniffs still loud in his ears as he took in her scent, and before long he felt her arms gently going around his neck, and felt her wet cheeks against his chest. Still shaking, he felt her swallow her sobs, prompting him to slide his hands against her back in an attempt to calm her down.

"I'm so sorry," he says to her in his memory. "I thought it was for the best."

"I know, Minho." Figured that he had said the same thing, because he had remembered her saying this all, and her looking up to him, wet eyes and sad smile. "I'm so sorry," she sniffed again. Minho ignored the urge for him to kiss her right then and there.

Shaking his head, Minho swiped his thumb across one of her cheeks and she smiled. The lump in his throat remained as he felt his cheeks becoming wet after seeing that broken smile of hers. As if she was somehow… just giving up her happiness for his. Although he couldn't really explain why that thought that might’ve run through her head made his heart sink.

Afterwards Minho had taken her to the photobooth, by means of making her smile. At least they could make funny faces at each other when they sit there, right? At least they'd laugh at each other right?

But he couldn't really do anything at the moment. Not when she seemed to force herself to enjoy the night because of him. The first take she was laughing because he had tripped on her and she had pulled him to sit down on the seat beside hers, and the cameras flashed on their faces before he could comprehend anything.

The second take was more like him laughing at her as he teased her about how beautiful she looked in that gown. How he wished he could make her his, the voice in his head had whispered. A pleasurable shade of cherry red again coated her cheeks, like the previous times where she had been teased by him, and the second take was her stifling a silly grin and playfully shoving his shoulder.

The third take was him pulling her to sit on his lap, and that the cameras had caught her surprised look on the cameras made his stomach turn. She had her arms around his neck to keep herself balanced, and for that matter she needed to look up.

The fourth take was unexplainable. She was sitting on his lap, and the cameras caught him looking at her with the same confusing emotions he had felt the whole time he was with her. And he had mistaken those feelings to be similar to what he'd felt for a friend when he knew she wasn't just a friend. She was smiling so beautifully, looking into his eyes as she did so, and he knew he felt warm, as though something inside him was melting to the sensations she was making him feel.

"Lee Minho, I love you."

Between the bright lights of the camera flash and the sound of shutters being clicked open and close, he heard the small voice of her amidst everything.

That night had somehow ended with shaky breaths and hushed voices as he walked her back to her studio, and somehow it felt as if it was the last time he'd hold her hand.

Minho stands up from his position and walks to his desk. His very, very dusty desk, pulls out an old book - that's for another story for him to tell - and takes out the set of four black-framed polaroids they had taken that night. Brushing his hands across the pictures, he sighs at the sight of her in that gown he adores so much.

But even without the gown, she looks so much more beautiful than any other girls he'd ever known.

Is this love?

He brushes his thumb across her cheek in the picture and feels a weird sense of … something unnamed overwhelming his five senses. Bringing the perfume in his hand to his nose, he gently sniffs on it, before he brings the Polaroid set to his nose. It smells the same, he hears the voice in his head speaking fondly. It smells wonderful. This is her smell.

Brushing the pads of his fingers against her wet cheeks, he bent to her forehead, leaving unspoken feelings and hidden meanings behind a simple lingering kiss to it, but it wasn't just that that broke her. He had said something that made it particularly difficult for her to forget- and it was such a Lee Minho thing to do when parting ways.

"Don't ever change for anyone, darling.

You're perfect the way you are,

Stay the same, love."

Goodbyes were hard, but it was extremely- surprisingly- difficult for someone who had said a lot of goodbyes such as Lee Minho, and he hadn't expected that to happen with anyone. Except he didn't expect meeting her would be the end of that statement for him.

He turned on his heels after the kiss, begging his heart to not even spare a glance, because this was her. She'd make it especially difficult for him to leave.

But long after he reached his apartment, changed out of his suit, and drank a mug of hot choco that Felix had made for him, he found himself staring into darkness, his mind drowning in the remaining memories he had of her.

He sighs again, clutching the two items to his chest and takes in the smell of her. As he closes his eyes, he remembers feeling a sense of warmth flooding him as her smell engulfs him in what he can only as her comfort hugs. How can she smell good even without perfume?

She always does that when she knows he's upset.

Somewhere in between his consciousness and his dreamstate, he hears a little voice pleading with her in his memories.

If I ever get to meet you next time, I'm praying to God that even if you find someone that's not me, please don't ever change.

It's early morning the next day when Minho next opens his eyes. Since his curtains were drawn open yesterday, he's greeted first thing by the little rays of sunlight. The sun is rising. Groaning, he fights the urge to curse the sun for being up too early. It's the weekend, what the heck?

The first thing that he registers is that he hears Felix singing as he makes his usual pancakes, and that if he's very much awake he'd realise Felix is actually having a pleasant conversation. With a girl. But Lee Minho’s not in his right mind, so he doesn't think of it too much when he realises that the voice is hers- because he thinks he's still dreaming.

"Hyung!"

He hears Felix’s three soft raps on his door, and he swears that he can hear Felix smiling when he presses his ear to the surface of the wooden door when Felix says, "Someone's out here to meet you, hyung." Minho doesn't think too much of it, because Felix usually invites his friends over, and his friends- Hyunjin, Jisung and Seungmin- he can say they're basically fond of him.

What he didn't expect was to see her.

With a box of Pepero sticks that he remembers mentioning to her that he craved for. That was over a year ago.

He blinks, grip tightening on his door handle as she lowers her gaze in a small bow. Minho feels all his senses heightening at an alarming rate, so he turns to Felix, who throws worried looks in his direction as if wanting to ask if he's okay with her coming. He notices her gulping, wondering if the anxiety hits her the same way it's currently hitting him.

"I'm just stopping by," she stutters. "To drop this." She gestures at the big green box, giggling nervously as she picks at the skin of her arm. When his gaze finds hers again, she looks down to her stockinged feet. She's still the same, he whispers to himself.

Felix eyes him nervously, an eye language of, "Maybe I should leave you guys alone."

Minho nods at him, and before she can look up to stop Felix, he's gone.

The sound of a slammed door surprises her and makes her jump in her position, but Minho stifles his chuckle because he doesn't want to scare her away like he did last time. It seems as though they're both thinking the same thing, because Minho notices another gulp going down her throat, and that's what he's currently having a problem with. His throat feels dry and it feels particularly difficult to breathe.

"Hey."

She looks up.

"Let's sit down. Talk."

"Like old times?"

He sighs. He knows that it won't feel like old times anymore.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn’t bring that up."

"It's okay, darling." He says, and he feels the nerves in him relaxing. "I wanted things to be the way they were too."

He sees her open her mouth, but then she closes it. Considering her words and actions before she regrets it.

He walks towards the couch in front of the TV, prompting her to follow him. She doesn't sit when he sits, slightly troubled and confused, but he knows she can't refuse him when he holds out one hand and something else in his eyes that begs her to do so, so she sits.

He then carefully slides his arm around her waist, glancing at her to assess her reactions. Under his touch, he notices she tenses, the red spreading to her ears and he sighs and before anxiety can creep back up to eat him from inside out, he pulls her closer to him, putting his chin on her head.

An involuntary content sigh leaves his slightly parted lips, and he relaxes into her figure. Gradually, she leans against his chest too, and he hears a heavy breath coming from her. Another bold move that he attempts is to take her other hand in his, and he cheers quietly when she doesn't budge, instead leaning more into him, and this time he hears a happy hum from her.

It's so tempting for Minho to sway her in that position, so he does that, and he hears a giggle from her. The giggles that he's deprived of for over a year. Immediately he feels as though a huge amount of oxygen is being returned to him, as though his sleepless nights will be no more.

"Minho."

He hums.

"What are we?" She looks up to him, and he lifts his chin so that he can see her expression.

She's hopeful.

Tired, but hopeful.

"Are you willing to wait for me?" I promise I won't be long, he promises quietly, tightening the grip he has on her hand.

"I'm willing, Min," she affirms, responding to him with a reassuring squeeze of her hand around his. "So long as it makes you happy," she adds, before leaning into him again, another happy hum escaping her lips.

"Then let's just stay like this for a while," he whispers into her hair.

"Okay, Minho."

It takes a minute for him to take in the smell of her, this fresh her, smelling like that perfume he has in his pocket, like the Polaroid set in his old notebook. Everything's going so perfectly, the way he's holding her, the way she's fitting so adequately into his arms.

"We'll be alright this time.

I won't run away again."

She doesn't look up to meet his eyes when he lowers his eyes to meet hers, stiffening in her position, but remains there on his lap, and Minho understands her too well that he knows she's slightly uncomfortable with his promises. Ones which he knows that she knows he'll struggle to keep, and she doesn't want that. No hurting Lee Minho if she could ever help it, she'd say. If anyone is going to get hurt, it should be her.

"I don't want you to promise, Lee Minho." She sighs, playing with the fingers that are intertwined with hers. "I'm more than willing to wait for as long as I must, so please, don't hurt yourself," and Minho just doesn't know what it is that stabs him deep inside but it really hurts to hear the pain hidden in the fake calmness of hers.

"I won't promise then."

Her perfume in his pocket long forgotten, and the Polaroid set lies abandoned in their shared notebook, Minho takes in the scent of her wafting through the air around them. It's the first time in over a year that he's able to sleep so peacefully, and he doesn't even need her perfume to help him sleep.

She never changed.

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