Chapter Text
I cry in his bathroom
He turns off the big light
I need him like water
He thinks that I’m alright
~
The apartment Minho enters is smaller than he expects it to be, and he checks the paperwork in his hands with a frown. The social worker had said the hybrid’s classification was lamb, but surely such a person would need more room? It’s not super cramped, he guesses, it’s just… really contained. The walls are a soft millennial gray, and there’s absolutely no overhead lighting. Thank God, Minho thinks. Fuck overhead lights. Instead, there’s a few soft warm lamps scattered around the place. The blinds in the living area are open, letting sunlight leak in.
Minho walks further into the apartment, and spots the hybrid standing at the kitchen counter. He’s lent up against it, and is holding a warm mug between his hands. His eyes are big and nervous as they track Minho.
“Hello.” Minho greets politely. “Changbin, right?”
Changbin nods warily. “Hi.”
“I was told you’ve already been here a few days.” Minho says, repositioning the bag on his shoulder. “Everything okay so far?”
“Yeah.” Changbin says after an awkward beat of silence. “I deep cleaned what’s supposed to be your bedroom. It was dusty.”
He starts leading the way to the second empty bedroom, and Minho follows. Deep cleaned? He gets led down a hallway, and the empty bedroom door is already open. It is in fact very clean here, and everything is made up like it’s a hotel room.
Minho looks bewildered. “You didn’t have to clean.”
“It was dusty.” Changbin answers simply. “And now you can fill it with your stuff.”
Minho blinks. Okay. So the hybrid is… odd. “Right, yeah.”
Changbin watches him unpack his bags rather intensely. When Minho tries to look for somewhere to plug in one of the discarded lamps, he speaks up again.
“That outlet hums.” He says, pointing to the one underneath the desk.
Minho pauses from where he was about to plug it in. “Okay?”
Changbin fidgets. “It’s low frequency, so you probably can’t hear it. But I can, even from my room. Please use the other outlet.” He points to the one positioned near Minho’s bedside table.
Minho moves the lamp to the bedside table without fuss. He thinks about goals the social worker gave him. Encourage him to initiate socially. Give him space to express his needs vocally, even if it’s blunt. Watch out for avoidant tendencies. This is all fine. The lamb hybrid is a bit peculiar, but this’ll work out fine.
Once Minho is done unpacking, they both head into the kitchen area, and Changbin heads straight to the fridge. He opens it and stares inside for a moment, before glancing back at the human. “You eat at regular human times?”
Minho squints. “Um. Yes.”
Changbin nods like he’s filing it. “Okay. So you haven’t had lunch yet, then? It just hit 11:30. I can make something.”
“That’s… nice of you. Yes, thank you.”
They don’t talk while Changbin cooks. Minho sits at the counter and watches, and hopes that even though he feels awkward the hybrid is at least comfortable. When the food is ready, Changbin sets Minho’s bowl down in front of him and then sits next to him so they can eat together. Minho notices that Changbin matches pace with him while they eat, never eating faster or slower, so they finish at the same time. He doesn’t comment on it.
Afterward, Changbin clears the table and shoos Minho away when he tries to help. Minho leaves him alone and settles on the couch in the living room, Changbin following a few moments later and claiming the armchair by the window.
“You don’t have to stay up with me.” Minho says as the evening grows later and the sun has long set.
“I’m not tired.”
Minho gives him a searching look. The hybrid looks tense. “Seriously. Go to bed if you want.”
Changbin is quiet for a moment before standing rather robotically. “Okay.”
“Good night.” Minho replies simply, trying to come off as disarming.
“Night.”
Minho watches him disappear into his bedroom, the hybrid leaving his door slightly ajar.
*
Minho’s alarm goes off at 7:00, and he groans into his pillow. He hates early mornings with a passion, but he always gets scheduled early. The smell of breakfast wafts into his bedroom, and he pushes himself out of bed with a sigh, padding out and into the kitchen. Changbin is there, barefoot and standing in front of the stove. His hair is slightly damp, suggesting he showered not too long ago.
“Morning.” Minho mumbles.
Changbin glances up with eyes already alert and ready for the day. “Good morning. Do you always wake at this hour?”
“Usually.” Minho sighs, moving to sit at the counter. “When I work, anyway. Luckily I have weekends off.”
Changbin nods, filing that away, and turns back to the stove. Whatever he’s cooking seems to be finished already, timing perfect, and he starts plating it for the both of them. He slides one plate toward Minho, and then sits next to the elder with his own. Pancakes, sausage, bacon, and eggs.
Minho glances at him, intrigued, as he takes a forkful of food. “What if I was the kind of person that didn’t eat breakfast?”
“I assumed you wouldn’t be.” Changbin answers factually. “And you are eating, so my assumption was right.”
“Fair enough.”
The kitchen is peaceful while they both eat, and Minho notices that Changbin is matching his pace again. When Minho pauses to scroll on his phone for a moment, Changbin pauses too, watching him idly. When Minho resumes, so does he.
“Hey,” Minho says gently. “You don’t have to wait for me.”
Changbin freezes for a moment, ears twitching with brief agitation. “I don’t mind.”
He looks uncomfortable, so Minho lets it go. They finish eating, and Changbin takes both plates to wash them just like he did the night before.
“Do you have anywhere to be today, Changbin-ah?” Minho asks politely as the hybrid washes.
Changbin shakes his head. “No.”
“I do.” Minho sighs. “I’ve got a meeting at 9.”
Changbin glances at the clock from his spot at the sink, frowning in thought. It’s 7:30. “You should go get dressed. Quit watching me do dishes.”
Minho snorts, finding the hybrid's blunt nature amusing, and walks away to get ready for work.
*
Minho returns late in the afternoon to find Changbin sitting on the floor in the living room, soaking up the sunlight by the window. There’s a notebook in his lap, pages filled with tight, neat handwriting. His head snaps up immediately when the front door opens and Minho steps inside, and he closes his notebook and sets it down, not finishing whatever he had been writing.
“You don’t have to stop just because I’m home.”
Changbin tilts his head. “I thought you might want to hang out.”
“I… was planning on just sitting around and answering some emails. So you don’t have to stop whatever you’re doing, I promise.”
They spend the rest of the afternoon into the evening existing together in the living room, but doing different things. Minho answers emails on the couch, Changbin sorts their laundry nearby. He had been adamant of washing both their clothes, not just his own, and took great care to fold them all and sort them nicely. Dinner also appears without much discussion between either of them, Changbin cooking again without asking.
That night, Minho stays up later than usual, trying to finish up a report. Changbin hovers uncertainly for a moment, before settling on the couch with a book. He tries to read, but his eyes keep flicking up to Minho every few minutes. There’s no way he’s actually retaining anything.
“You can go to bed,” Minho says eventually. “I’ll be a while.”
Changbin fiddles with his book. “I’ll wait.”
“You don’t need to, Changbin.”
“I want to.”
Minho finishes his work quickly after that, not liking the idea of making the hybrid stay up late for no reason. They brush their teeth together, standing side by side in the mirror. They both go to their separate rooms after, and Minho leaves his door ajar the same way he sees Changbin do, wondering if it gives the hybrid some sort of comfort.
*
They’re sitting on the couch together, Minho with his laptop in his lap and Changbin reading a book. Changbin is sitting directly next to him. They’re not touching, but there’s barely any space between their bodies. Minho shifts, distracted by an email he’s reading, and brushes lightly against the hybrid’s arm. Changbin goes completely still, like a glitch.
“Sorry,” Minho apologizes quickly, shifting back to where he was. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” Changbin reassures quickly.
“It doesn’t seem fine.” Minho frowns.
Changbin doesn’t answer, choosing to fiddle with his book instead.
Minho sighs. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. But I need to know when something's wrong.”
Changbin’s ears twitch nervously. “Touch is… hard.”
“Okay.” Minho agreed easily. “Then no touching.”
Changbin relaxes, and they resume their separate activities.
*
The social worker visits the next day. She sits at the kitchen table with them both, energy chipper as she gets her tablet set up.
“So,” she begins. “How are we feeling about this arrangement?”
“Good. It’s been… calm.” Minho answers.
“Calm is good.” She says, tapping something on her screen. “Changbin, have you been doing anything to make yourself more comfortable?”
Changbin glances at Minho for a moment before staring down at the table. “Yes, I… make sure he eats. And I stay nearby when he’s home even if we’re not doing the same things.”
The social worker nods. “Okay. And have you initiated physical contact?”
Changbin frowns. “No.”
“That’s something I’d like to encourage.” She says gently. “Physical reassurance is important when it comes to bonding.”
“Right. I understand.” Changbin answers. But Minho doesn’t like the way his voice sounds when he says it.
*
They sit on the couch again that night, a mirror image of the first time. Side by side, but doing their own things. Until slowly, Changbin reaches out and casually lays his hand on Minho’s knee, as if testing if he can handle it. He obviously can’t, if the way his whole body tenses up despite being the one to initiate is any indication. Minho pulls away from the touch immediately, and Changbin recoils back as well.
“Am I doing it wrong?” Changbin asks nervously.
“No, you’re not— You didn’t do anything wrong.” Minho denies.
Changbin shakes his head. “She said it would help.”
“No, it’s— She can make suggestions, Changbin, but if it’s not the way you want to do things, no one can force you.”
Changbin nods, but his eyes stay fixed absently on his book. Eventually, after a few uncomfortable moments of silence, he stands up to move to the armchair instead.
A pit forms in Minho’s stomach as the hybrid puts space between them. He has a bad feeling about this.