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inkandtension · 1 day

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Falling, Laughing, Loving

SUMMARY: Life gets harder after falling in love, but he doesn't care

Crazy in love! Minho x Reader

Minho used to think luck was for the overly optimistic. He was always a realist—things worked out because he worked for them. The world didn’t hand out success based on some invisible charm; you had to earn it. That’s how he became the best student in his class. It wasn’t luck that got him praised by the dean. It wasn’t luck that helped him win the baseball championship either. And when he stood on stage with a certificate in his hand, or when the dean patted him on the back, or when his team celebrated their trophy win, Minho felt… nothing.

He knew he should have felt proud, maybe even ecstatic. But all it was to him was another task checked off his list, another thing expected of him.

That was before you.

Minho didn’t notice it at first. You were just his classmate, the girl sitting a few rows away during lectures, always scribbling in your notebook and looking half-lost but still managing to answer questions when asked. But the more he saw you, the more he found himself wondering what was going on in your mind.

And then, there was that one day. It was after an exhausting class—everyone was groaning about the workload, but you? You were smiling, laughing about something with your friend. It was contagious, and for the first time, Minho felt something different. A lightness in his chest. A laugh bubbled up inside him just because you were smiling.

That was when he started noticing you more. The way your laughter echoed in the classroom, the way you’d zone out and absentmindedly tap your pen on the desk, the way your eyes lit up when you got an answer right. He didn’t know how or when, but Minho was falling. Slowly, but surely.

And that’s when life decided to play a trick on him.

Minho stood with his friends at the top of the stairs near the college's entrance, chatting about an upcoming project. He was mid-sentence when his thoughts drifted. There you were, at the bottom of the stairs, laughing with someone. His mind instantly focused on you—your smile, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed.

Then it happened.

Without warning, his foot slipped, and before he knew it, he was tumbling down the stairs. His body hit the steps hard, but his mind was still on you. When he landed at the bottom, groaning in pain, he looked up and there you were, staring down at him with a surprised but amused expression.

Minho’s brain wasn’t even processing the pain. All he could focus on was the fact that you were at the bottom of the escalator. You were watching, concern and amusement dancing in your eyes. You hurried over, a slight smile tugging at your lips.

"You alright, Minho?" you asked, crouching down to his level, gently brushing his hair away from his forehead. Your touch was featherlight, but it set his skin on fire.

Minho blinked up at you, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. "Y-yeah… I’m good," he stammered, trying to act cool but failing miserably.

You stood up, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "Be careful next time, alright? We don’t want to lose our best student to a staircase."

Minho stood frozen for a moment, watching you leave, a stupid grin forming on his face. His friends ran up to him, their eyes wide with concern.

"Bro, are you okay?" Jisung asked, gripping his arm.

"Yeah, dude, you just face-planted down like ten steps," Hyunjin added.

Minho blinked, snapping out of it. "Wait, did you see that?" he asked, excitement bubbling in his voice.

"Yeah, we saw you nearly break your neck," his friend deadpanned.

"No, not that!" Minho shook his head, still grinning. "She laughed. Because of me!"

His friends stared at him, clearly confused.

"Dude, you almost broke your face," Seungmin said.

Minho only laughed, ignoring their bewildered looks. "She laughed," he repeated softly, his heart swelling at the memory, "Because of me, she touched my head too...".

His friends exchanged looks, clearly baffled. "Bro, you hit your head harder than we thought."

That night, Minho was at home, sitting at the kitchen table with his four-year-old cousin, Jun, who was visiting with his family. The little boy squirmed in his seat as Minho scrolled through his phone, landing on a picture of you from a group project last semester.

"Look, Jun," Minho said, showing the picture to the wide-eyed child. "Isn’t she pretty?"

Jun looked at the screen, eyes going big with curiosity before a giggle escaped him. "She’s cute!"

"Right?" Minho smiled fondly, completely smitten.

Just as he was about to swipe to another photo, Jun, in his excitement, knocked over his juice, spilling it all over the table—and Minho’s class notes. The liquid soaked through the paper, smudging ink and ruining hours of work.

But Minho didn’t flinch. Normally, he’d be frustrated, maybe even furious. Instead, he grinned, wiping the table casually with a cloth.

"Ah, Jun! You couldn’t handle her cuteness either, huh?" Minho laughed, patting his cousin’s head. "Don’t worry, she’s so gorgeous, even I can’t handle it sometimes."

His high school cousin, seated across from him, nearly choked on his food. "Are you serious right now? You’re not mad?"

Minho looked up, still smiling. "Why would I be mad? I just got to show Jun the prettiest girl in the world."

His cousin blinked, setting down his fork. "Minho, dude, are you okay? Did you hit your head today?"

Minho laughed again, a carefree sound that made his cousin squint at him like he was losing his mind. But he didn’t care. None of it mattered. All he could think about was the fact that earlier, you had laughed at his clumsiness, you called out his name, you touched his hair with your soft fingers, he could still feel them. You had patted his shoulder and smiled at him.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing dreamily. "I’m great. Never better."

The next day, Minho walked into class, his eyes immediately scanning the room for you. You were there, sitting near the window, that same peaceful smile on your face as you stared outside. He found a seat behind you, unable to focus on anything other than how much his luck had changed since you entered his life.

A few days later, you and Minho found yourselves walking out of class together. It wasn’t planned—it just sort of happened. You were talking about something, your voice filling the quiet hallway, and Minho was only half-listening. He was too busy watching you, the way your lips moved when you spoke, the way your hair bounced with each step.

He was so distracted, he didn’t see the doorframe.

With a loud thunk, Minho walked straight into the edge of the door, groaning as he rubbed his forehead.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" you asked, clearly trying not to laugh as you reached out to steady him.

Minho winced, but seeing you trying so hard not to laugh at his misfortune made the pain completely worth it. "I’m fine. Totally fine," he said, flashing you a sheepish smile.

You giggled, shaking your head. "You’re such a klutz lately."

Minho chuckled, brushing off the embarrassment. "Yeah, but if I make you laugh, it’s totally worth it."

"What?" You asked, pretending to not hear.

"Nothing, I'm just enjoying my life a bit too much" He laughs.

Before you, he’d never thought of himself as lucky. Even with all his achievements, nothing ever really felt like it mattered. But now? Every little mishap, every small inconvenience, every time he tripped or spilled something—it all seemed worth it, just because it led to moments where he got to see you smile, hear your laugh, or feel your touch, even if it was just a pat on the shoulder.

And as Minho stood there next to you, he knew one thing for certain:

He was the luckiest guy in the world.