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Junmin knew—logically—that it wasn’t that serious. He knew it was just content. A Christmas game for fans. He’d done this kind of thing many times. He even told himself not to expect anything this year either. Expectations were dangerous. Expectations made things hurt. And yet.
When the box landed in his hands and the paper came off to reveal a humidifier, something in his chest sank so quietly he almost missed it.
Almost.
He smiled immediately. Of course he did. Big enough for the cameras. Soft enough to look fond. He even laughed when the members started teasing him.
“So thoughtful,” another added, grinning.
Junmin nodded along, because that was what he did. He was good at nodding. Good at understanding. Good at not making things awkward. Inside, though, he felt like a tired mom at the end of a long day, staring at a sink full of dishes and wondering when, exactly, he’d volunteered for this life.
He glanced at Junghoon without meaning to. Junghoon looked… relieved like the world had aligned the way he wanted it to Apparently it did. He even said it out loud, in that very Junghoon way. “It’s good for everyone’s health.”
Junmin nodded again. Of course it was.
Junghoon had bought the gift thinking of the team. Thinking of dry throats, winter colds, practice rooms with recycled air. Junghoon always thought like that—roundabout, practical, unintentionally sweet. He’d even said earlier that he wanted to keep his own gift because he’d picked it carefully for the members’ condition.
Junmin knew that. He really did. That didn’t stop the sting. Because Junmin had been sick for months. A cold that never fully left, voice rough in the mornings, tissues shoved into every pocket. And still—still—he was the one reminding everyone to wear jackets, to drink warm water, to rest when they could. Still the one checking foreheads, patting backs, saying, I’m fine, even when he wasn’t.
He didn’t want something expensive. Or meaningful. Or dramatic. He just wanted something chosen for him.
The kids—because they were kids to him, no matter how old they got—kept teasing, kept laughing. Someone said, “It’s just for fun, hyung,” like that solved everything. Like fun couldn’t bruise a little.
Junmin laughed with them. He Held his smile steady for the rest of the shoot. He reacted when he was supposed to, clapped at the right moments, looked warm and fond and endlessly patient.
Angry-mom thoughts rattled around his head the whole time.
Of course. Why wouldn’t it be a humidifier. Should I label it ‘Junmin’s unpaid labor’? Maybe I’ll put a bow on my immune system next year. He didn’t say any of it. Just muttered curses under his breath when no one was close enough to hear, the kind his own mom used to use when she was tired but still cooking dinner anyway.
By the time they got back to the dorm, his cheeks hurt from smiling.
Junmin kicked off his shoes and walked straight to the room he shared with Junghoon, the box tucked under his arm. He set it down carefully near the desk, like it might break if he wasn’t gentle, then plopped down on the bed with a quiet huff. His lips pushed into a pout before he could stop it.
Junghoon stopped in the doorway. There it was.
Junghoon closed the door behind him and cursed himself under his breath, already knowing he was going to have to do this badly, gently, and way later than he should have. And h is unfortunately, was very bad at not overthinking once he started.
Junmin didn’t regret accepting the gift. He just wished, maybe, that someone had seen him a little more clearly this time.
Junghoon honestly thought talking would fix it.
That was usually how things worked. You talked, you explained, you waited a bit, and Junmin would nod and say he understood—even if he was still upset, he’d soften around the edges. Junghoon had come to rely on that. Maybe too much.
Junmin sat on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed, shoulders tight, gaze fixed somewhere past the wall. His lips were pressed together in a way Junghoon knew well.
The humidifier box sat on the floor near the desk, Junghoon kept glancing at it and then away again, like it might accuse him if he stared too long. He took a deep breath.
Okay. So be Gentle and Don’t mess this up.
“Hyung,” Junghoon said quietly. “You’re being a little… dramatic.”
Junmin didn’t look at him. “I’m not.”
“You kind of are,” Junghoon replied, trying for light, trying for familiar. “Not in a bad way. Just—”
Junmin’s jaw tightened. Junghoon saw it immediately and cursed himself internally. Too much. Take it back.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “That came out wrong.”
Junmin let out a controlled breath, like he was bracing himself. “Just leave it, Junghoon.”
Junghoon crouched in front of him anyway, elbows resting on his knees. He looked up at Junmin’s face, searching for eye contact that didn’t come.
"Can we try counting?” he asked, hesitant but hopeful. “It helps sometimes.”
Junmin finally looked at him, disbelief clear on his face. “Counting?”
“Yeah,” Junghoon said. “Like… calming down counting. One to ten.”
Junmin stared. “You’re serious.”
“I am.”
“No.”
Junghoon nodded once. “Okay. I’ll count. So You don’t have to, ”
Junmin exhaled sharply through his nose.
“One,” Junghoon said softly. Junmin’s fingers curled into his sleeves.
“Two.”
“Junghoon,” Junmin warned, voice tight.
“Three,” Junghoon said anyway, quieter now.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
Junmin huffed and turned his head away. “Stop talking.”
Junghoon stopped counting, relief mixing with worry. “Okay,” he said. “I stopped.”
Silence stretched between them. Junmin’s shoulders slumped just slightly, the fight leaking out even though he clearly didn’t want it to.
Junghoon smiled, relieved. “See? Progress.”
Junmin sulked harder, which Junghoon didn’t know was possible but somehow Junmin managed it. He curled in on himself slightly, muttering under his breath.
“Always me,” Junmin mumbled. “Always taking care of everyone. I Should’ve just wrapped myself and put a bow on my head too.”
Junghoon’s heart did a small, uncomfortable flip.
“Hyung,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know,” Junmin snapped, then immediately sighed. “That’s why it’s annoying.”
Junghoon scooted closer on the floor. “I can get you something else.”
Junmin didn’t respond.
“I mean it,” Junghoon added. “Like—what did you want? You liked Minjae-hyung’s gift, right?”
Junmin looked away again. “I don’t want anything now.”
Junghoon’s shoulders slumped. “Hyung, please stop sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“You are sulking.”
“I’m resting.”
Junghoon laughed despite himself. “You look like an angry mom who just got home from work.”
Junmin shot him a glare. “Do you want to die.”
“Maybe a little,” Junghoon said honestly.
He tried a different tactic. He tried Scooted closer. He leaned his head lightly against Junmin’s knee. “Hyung,” he said softly. “I'm really sorry.”
Junmin stiffened but didn’t move away.
Junghoon took that as a win and kept going, voice quiet and earnest in that very Junghoon way—like he was saying things as they occurred to him, “You take care of everyone,” he said. “I know. I see it. I just… I’m bad at showing it right. I wanted everyone to be healthy. I didn’t think about how it’d look.”
Junmin’s pout wavered Just a little.
Junghoon smiled, seeing the progress of his words “You’re the best hyung. And you deserve nice things. Not humidifiers. Well—maybe humidifiers, but like As a bonus.”
Junmin sniffed. “You’re terrible at apologizing.”
“I know,” Junghoon agreed. “I’m trying.”
Junmin stayed quiet, clearly melting but stubborn about it. Junghoon waited, patience stretched thin in that way where it turned into nerves.
“You’re allowed to be upset,” Junghoon added. “Even if it’s messy. Even if it doesn’t make sense.”
Junmin muttered, “I know I’m being dramatic.”
“So am I,” Junghoon said easily. “Just in a different way.”
Junmin let out a tired laugh, rubbing his face with both hands. “Damn it.”
Junghoon smiled softly, relief blooming but careful not to rush it. Junghoon waited for junmin to talk again , but After a moment, he stood and gently pulled Junmin into a hug, slow enough to give him time to pull away. Junmin resisted weakly, hands pushing at his chest without conviction.
“Junghoon,” he murmured. “Stop.”
“Just let me say sorry properly.” Junghoon whispered, pressing a small, familiar kiss to his temple.
Junghoon stayed longer than he probably should have. His arms stayed where they were, loose but steady around Junmin, like if he let go too soon everything would snap back into place the wrong way.
Junmin’s forehead rested against his shoulder now, weight leaning in instead of pulling away, the tension leaving him in careful stages. Not all at once. Junmin never did anything all at once.
Junghoon breathed out softly through his nose.
Okay. This is better. Don’t say something stupid again.
“So,” he said after a bit, keeping his tone deliberately light, like he wasn’t holding his breath inside. “now You look… less like you’re about to kick me out of the room for a week.”
Junmin scoffed, voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m still mad.”
“I know,” Junghoon said easily. “But it’s the manageable kind. Not the ‘I-raised-you-better-than-this’ kind.”
Junmin snorted before he could stop himself. “You really think you’re being funny right now.”
“I really think I’m trying,” Junghoon said.
Junmin shifted, like he meant to pull away—and then didn’t. Instead, his hand came up and twisted into the fabric of Junghoon’s hoodie, fingers curling there without asking. That small, unconscious choice hit Junghoon harder than anything Junmin had said all night. His chest tightened in that familiar, stupid way. The oh feeling. The one he never talked about.
“Do you want me to keep counting?” Junghoon asked quietly, already half-regretting it
Junmin exhaled, long and tired. “Stop trying so hard.”
Junghoon flinched. “…Okay.” He went quiet, forcing himself not to fill the space. He’d learned—slowly—that Junmin needed silence sometimes.
A few seconds passed.
Then Junmin sighed again, softer this time. “I forgive you.”
Junghoon blinked, genuinely startled. “You do?”
Junmin pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes still a little glassy, irritation dulled down to warmth underneath “Yes. Before you offer to sell a kidney or something.”
Junghoon laughed, relief hitting him so hard it made him dizzy. He hugged Junmin tighter without thinking, arms wrapping fully around him now.
“Thank you,” he said, earnest and a little too intense. “I swear I’ll do better.”
Junmin huffed. “that is Debatable.”
“ahh hyyungg,” Junghoon said, faintly offended. “I’m improving...painfully slow but I'm trying .”
Junmin shook his head, amused despite himself.
Junghoon leaned back just enough to look at him—and then his body moved before his brain fully caught up. A quick, soft kiss to Junmin’s forehead completely unplanned. But The moment it registered in his brain— it was already too late.
Oh. Did I just --
Junmin froze for an entire minute but junghoon froze harder standing there without knowing what to do or say.
“I—” Junghoon pulled back immediately, hands hovering like he didn’t know where to put them.
“Sorry, I didn’t—I don’t usually—I mean, I don’t kiss people, that just—”
Junmin stared at him for a second. Then his mouth curved into slow and fond smile.
“Hoon -ah” he said gently. “Relax.”
Junghoon’s ears burned. “I’m not— I just panicked. I wasn’t thinking.”
Junmin’s expression softened completely, the last of the sulk melting away. He smiled—small, warm, unmistakably Junmin.
Junghoon blinked seeing junmin smiley face. “You’re not… mad?”
Junmin shook his head. “No. Just shocked.” He paused, then added, teasingly, “You’re not exactly an openly affectionate person.”
Junghoon rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m affectionate. Just… internally.”
Junmin laughed softly. “Yeah. I know.”
They leaned back into each other, the awkwardness fading into something familiar again.
Junghoon hugged him again, gentler this time. “I’ll make it up to you,” he said firmly. “Like—properly, I'm not joking, I’ll buy you something expensive.”
“No, i don't want a gift ” Junmin said immediately.
Junghoon frowned. “Why not?”
“I want something else.” Junmin replied with his cutest doe eyes he always saw.
Junghoon narrowed his eyes, suspicious but smiling. “That sounds bit dangerous.”
Junmin’s lips curved. “Buy me dinner.”
“…Dinner.”
“At an expensive restaurant.”
Junghoon laughed. “Of course it’s food.”
Junmin shrugged. “You hurt my feelings. This is the price.”
Junghoon nodded solemnly. “Fair. Completely fair hyung”
“I’m serious.”
“I know,” Junghoon said, still smiling. “I promise. Whatever you want. No humidifiers involved.”
Junmin laughed, finally—real this time. “Good.”
Junghoon leaned in again, slower this time, and pressed a brief kiss to Junmin’s forehead. Less panic. More certainty.
Junmin blinked. “Okay. Now you’re being weirdly soft, Hoon-ah.”
Junghoon shrugged, unapologetic. “Can’t help it. My hyung looks really soft right now.”
Junmin rolled his eyes—but he leaned back into him anyway.
Junghoon didn’t move right away. They stayed like that for a while—bodies fitted together in a way that felt earned. Junghoon’s hand rested at Junmin’s back, warm through the fabric of his shirt, rising and falling with his breath. Junmin leaned into it, Every so often one of them shifted, just a little, not to leave but to settle better.
Junghoon realized they were swaying.
Not on purpose. Just a slow, absent-minded back-and-forth, the kind you did without thinking when something felt good and you didn’t want it to stop. It reminded him of late nights in practice rooms, of exhausted laughter, of the way Junmin always stood a little too close when he was tired.
Junmin’s hand slid up Junghoon’s arm, fingers resting there, Junghoon responded without thinking, thumb tracing small circles against Junmin’s side. Just touch because it was there.
It made Junghoon’s chest ache in the softest way.
After a while, Junmin shifted again, more deliberately this time. He let out a small sigh, the tired kind that meant the day had finally caught up.
“We should sleep,” he murmured, voice low, more of a suggestion than instruction.
Junghoon nodded even though Junmin couldn’t see it. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He loosened his hold just enough to let Junmin turn, guiding him with gentle hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Junmin faced the bed, kicked his slippers aside, and sat—only to be pulled back a second later.
Junghoon wrapped his arms around him from behind, chin hovering near Junmin’s shoulder, careful not to make him uncomfortable. Junmin paused, then relaxed back into the hold like he’d been expecting it.
They started swaying again.
Junmin laughed softly under his breath. “i thought you don't like skinship”
Junghoon pressed his forehead lightly between Junmin’s shoulder blades. “ yeah, i don't like that.”
“Liar.”
Junghoon smiled, arms tightening just a bit. “Maybe.”
They rocked gently, back and forth, like they were syncing up after a long day. Junghoon felt the steady warmth of Junmin against him, the quiet acceptance in the way he stayed. It felt intimate in a way that had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with trust.
Junghoon thought—absently—that this was what it meant to take care of someone without fixing anything.
Eventually, Junmin leaned his head back against Junghoon’s shoulder, eyes closed. Junghoon kissed the top of his head this time, slower, no panic. Junmin didn’t startle. He just hummed softly, content.
They climbed into bed like that— half-laughing, limbs tangled together. Junghoon stayed close even after the lights went out, one arm draped securely around Junmin’s waist, like a promise he didn’t need to say out loud.
Junmin fell asleep first. Junghoon stayed awake a little longer, listening to his breathing, counting nothing at all.
Epilogue
A few nights later, Junghoon kept his promise. He took Junmin to dinner, somewhere warm and quiet, somewhere with good food and no distractions. Junghoon watched him eat, saw the way Junmin relaxed with every bite, how the tension in his shoulders slowly melted away. He watched him smile at a joke he made, real laughter spilling from his chest instead of the careful smiles he wore for everyone else.
Junghoon paid without fuss, feeling quietly proud. Not of the food. Not of the money he spent. But of the way Junmin’s eyes softened when he felt seen. Of how Junmin let himself enjoy something purely for himself, without thinking about everyone else for once.
He realized, quietly, that these were the moments he wanted to hold onto. The small, soft, unguarded parts of Junmin that only came out around him. Junghoon made a mental note to pay more attention, to notice more, to let himself be close without overthinking it.
By the time they left, Junghoon’s chest was full in a way he didn’t often admit. Watching Junmin walk beside him, laughing lightly, shoulders relaxed, he knew the quiet rhythm they shared—the unspoken trust, the little teasing, the closeness—was exactly what he wanted to protect.
Dinner was just dinner. But it was more than that. It was a promise he kept, their bond deepened, and a reminder that sometimes, the smallest gestures carried the heaviest weight. And Junghoon, quietly, selfishly, gratefully, decided he’d keep noticing, he did keep caring, and keep these little moments just for them. Only for them.