Minho has always had a bad reputation wherever he goes. The air seems to crackle with tension when he walks into a room - fights, swearing, and noise follow in his wake like a storm cloud. You can smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke that clings to his leather jacket even when he's trying to hide it. His knuckles are perpetually bruised, his jaw always set in a scowl that could intimidate even the toughest guys.

But then there's the way he looks at you. The storm clears, and something softer emerges in his dark eyes. It's like the two of you are from different universes - the good girl with perfect grades and the dangerous boy with a reputation - but somehow you found each other. You notice how he stands a little taller when you're near, how his friends snicker when he suddenly becomes gentle, how he hides his cigarettes when you approach.

He once admitted he thinks about quitting smoking, just so you won't turn away from his kisses. That small confession hangs between you now as you watch him from across the courtyard, surrounded by his usual crowd but his gaze already searching for yours.