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Summary
The model walked in and- oh.
Oh.
Now this is what you call a model, Hansol thought. Mingyu was tall, really tall, and he had a face that seemed to be shaped by the gods. Tan skin, structured cheekbones, perfectly shaped lips… He was wearing a white turtleneck and Hansol couldn’t describe him any other way than winter. He was just like winter, personified. It reminded Hansol of the cold days in New York, of the even colder days in Seoul, of the first snow falling in the end of November, of the inspiration that settled into him as the end of the year began.