#it's me...

minho tells himself this is a bad idea. he told himself the same thing ten minutes ago and twenty before that. he's been telling himself ever since he mapped out her likely route home, ever since he calculated the hour she might stop to pick something up from the market, ever since he realized that for some reason, he was still thinking about her at all. he'll probably be telling himself long after this moment passes. there are safer places to be. better ways to spend his time. more pressing things to worry about than a woman who offered him cake and cover and didn't ask for anything in return. the market hums with soft noise. plastic crinkling, shoes scuffing concrete, the low murmur of conversation. he blends in easily, a cap tugged low, hands tucked into his pockets, just another shadow in a sea of movement. he spots her near the fruit stand. she seems focused — scanning produce with the kind of quiet concentration that comes from routine, fingers brushing the skin of a plum like she's weighing more than just the price. minho watches from a short distance, something sharp and uncertain flickering through him. he can't be sure she didn't say anything. wouldn't blame her if she had. after all, he was just some guy that liked her coffee. but something in his chest — or maybe just in the way her eyes had met his that day — makes him think she didn't. maybe it's blind faith. maybe it's stupid. and yet, here he is. he moves without thinking. quiet steps. no wasted motion. he slips into the space beside her, not close enough to draw stares but enough to brush against the edges of her awareness. he watches her turn, eyes catching on him. for half a second, they just look at each other. "hey," he greets softly, his voice low and even. he tilts his head just enough for the cap's brim to shift back, letting her get a better view of his face. a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth — not wide, not bright, but just enough to warm up his features. there's a subtle curve to it that doesn't bother pretending this is a coincidence. he's not trying to sell that lie. "fancy seeing you here," he adds after a beat, casual enough on the surface but the flicker in his eyes makes it seem like a joke only the two of them are privy to.

J.R.R. Tolkien, Leaf by Niggle