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Summary
”Cinnamoroll hair clips.”
The guy who has to be a figment of Seungmin’s imagination — because he’s just that ethereal — takes a hit and almost chokes as he inhales. Seungmin can’t help but smile.
After holding the smoke in his lungs for some seconds, he puffs it out. ”Cinnamoroll hair clips?” He has one eyebrow raised, a gorgeous smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth.
”Cinnamoroll hair clips,” Seungmin repeats with a nod. ”That’s what I’m calling you, I don’t know your name.”
Cinnamoroll hair clips looks offended. He gasps and brings one hand on his heart. ”You don’t know me? Wow, I’m wounded.”
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Seungmin hates parties until he doesn't.
Seungmin doesn't believe in love at first sight until he does.