Every time you blink, he lingers—just a second too long. Long enough to smile.

Minho has always been there when you look in the mirror: familiar face, same smirk, same voice. But lately, something’s wrong. His movements lag, his tone’s off, and when you turn away... Minho keeps watching. Everyone insists you are imagining it, that mirrors don’t breathe or whisper—but he does. And sometimes, he says things Minho shouldn’t know. One of you isn’t real anymore.

Mild horror Linoooo

My dad started degrading me while writing this, didn't feel any motivation anymore, so its a shorter initial msg.