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I woke up to the sound of quiet humming.
For a second, I forgot where I was.
Then I looked up at the familiar ceiling.
Minho's room.
The morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting warm streaks across the wooden floor.
I pushed myself up on the air mattress, stretching with a yawn.
Across the room, Minho was already awake.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through his phone with one earbud in. The moment he noticed me moving, he pulled it out and smiled.
"Morning."
"...Morning."
"You drooled."
My eyes widened.
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I don't drool."
He held up his phone.
"I have photographic evidence."
I stared at him in horror.
"...You took a picture of me?"
A grin spread across his face.
"No."
I narrowed my eyes.
"...You're lying."
"I am."
I picked up one of my pillows and threw it at him.
He barely caught it before it hit his face.
"Oh, we're choosing violence before breakfast?"
"You started it."
"I simply made an observation."
"You lied."
"I teased."
"Same thing."
He laughed, setting the pillow beside him.
"I like this version of you."
I blinked.
"...What version?"
"The one that throws pillows instead of apologizing every five minutes."
Heat rushed to my face.
"...Oh."
I hadn't even realized it.
A few weeks ago, I probably would've apologized.
Now...
I'd thrown a pillow at my boyfriend.
Progress.
Minho must've noticed the way I smiled to myself because he smiled too.
"What?"
"...Nothing."
"You're smiling."
"So?"
"I like seeing you smile."
I looked away, suddenly very interested in fixing the blanket on the air mattress.
"...You're cheesy."
"I know."
"...It suits me."
I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me.
"You know..."
I looked back at him.
"...You're kind of annoying."
He placed a hand over his chest dramatically.
"I've been called many things."
"But 'kind of'?"
"Ouch."
I rolled my eyes.
"Don't push your luck."
"So there's a limit?"
"Oh, definitely."
He hopped off the bed and walked over to me.
For a second, neither of us said anything.
He was close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his shampoo.
"...Good morning," he said again, quieter this time.
I smiled.
"...Good morning."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Can I...?"
I looked at him.
"Can you what?"
He pointed toward my hair.
"You've got bedhead."
I instinctively reached up, trying to flatten it.
"Did I get it?"
He chuckled.
"...Not even close."
Before I could try again, he reached up, gently smoothing down the stubborn strands sticking out in every direction.
"There."
His hand lingered for just a second before he pulled it back.
"...Perfect."
I could feel my face getting warmer.
"You didn't have to laugh."
"I wasn't laughing."
"You were smiling."
"I smile at things I like."
"...Oh."
There was that stupid warm feeling in my chest again.
The one that only ever seemed to appear when he looked at me like that.
A voice suddenly echoed up the stairs.
"If you two are awake," Chris called, "can one of you come help before Felix eats breakfast ingredients again?"
Minho sighed dramatically.
"Duty calls."
I laughed.
"Come on."
As we walked out of the room, our hands brushed together.
For a second...
Neither of us moved.
Then Minho glanced at me.
"Can I?"
He didn't have to explain what he meant.
I smiled and slipped my hand into his.
"...You know..."
"What?"
"You still ask."
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
"I always will."
I smiled all the way down the stairs.
By the time we made it downstairs, the rest of the house was already awake.
Chris stood at the stove, humming quietly as he flipped pancakes with practiced ease.
Changbin leaned against the counter, attempting to steal one whenever Chris looked away.
Every attempt ended the same way, with Chris smacking his hand away using the spatula.
"I saw that."
"You always see it."
"That's because you keep trying."
Before Changbin could defend himself, Felix wandered into the kitchen, still half asleep.
"Morning."
"No," Chris replied.
"...No?"
"No pancakes until you wash your hands."
Felix stared at him for a long moment before dramatically sighing.
"...This house has too many rules."
I couldn't help laughing.
Minho glanced over at me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I told you breakfast was entertaining."
"You undersold it."
"I know."
Chris opened the refrigerator, frowned, then opened it again as if expecting food to magically appear.
"...Well."
"That's not a good 'well,'" Seungmin muttered, walking into the kitchen with a mug of coffee.
"We're out of almost everything."
Changbin peeked inside.
"...How are we out of milk already?"
Felix slowly lowered the cereal box he was holding.
"...I can explain."
"No, you can't," Seungmin replied.
Chris pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to Minho.
"Would you mind making a grocery run?"
"Sure."
His eyes shifted to me.
"Wanna come?"
I nodded.
"Yeah."
Chris handed Minho a neatly folded grocery list.
"Please stick to the list."
Minho accepted it with a perfectly straight face.
"No promises."
Chris sighed.
"I walked right into that one."
About twenty minutes later, we were pulling into the grocery store parking lot.
The morning sun was already warming the pavement, and families wandered in and out of the automatic doors with overflowing shopping carts.
Minho parked near the entrance before turning off the engine.
"You ready?"
I looked over at him.
"As ready as anyone can be to voluntarily go grocery shopping."
He laughed.
"I'll take that as a yes."
We climbed out of the car and grabbed a shopping cart.
The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, cool air immediately washing over us.
Minho pulled a folded grocery list from his pocket.
"...Chris writes in color?"
I leaned closer.
Sure enough...
Each section was highlighted with a different colored marker.
"Dairy's blue."
"Produce is green."
"Frozen foods are... pink?"
Minho nodded like this was completely normal.
"He says it's 'organizationally satisfying.'"
"...I'm both impressed and slightly concerned."
"Welcome to living with Chris."
I laughed, taking the list from his hands.
"I'll push the cart."
"Bold of you to assume I was going to let you."
"I've got this."
"Hm."
He narrowed his eyes dramatically.
"I don't know..."
"What?"
"You look like the type to accidentally ram the cart into an old lady."
I gasped.
"I would never."
"We'll see."
"Oh, you're impossible."
"So I've heard."
We begin shopping.
Tossing things into the cart.
Then I see in the corner of my eye.
Minho puts something in the cart, hoping I wouldn’t notice.
"...Chris didn't put those on the list."
"They're morale cookies."
"Morale cookies?"
"Mhm."
"They improve team spirit."
"They're double chocolate chip."
"Exactly."
"...That's not how morale works."
"You'd be surprised."
I sighed.
"You're unbelievable."
"And yet..."
He nudged my shoulder with his.
"...You're smiling again."
I hadn't even noticed.
I was.
Maybe grocery shopping wasn't so bad after all.
We turned into the next aisle.
A woman stood near the end, comparing jars of pasta sauce.
An elderly man reached for a carton of milk.
Someone's toddler was happily singing to themselves from inside a shopping cart.
Everything felt...
Ordinary.
Comfortably ordinary.
I reached for a box of cereal.
Then,
"How many times do I have to tell you?!"
The voice cracked through the aisle like thunder.
My hand froze halfway to the shelf.
"I don't care if you're busy!"
It wasn't directed at me.
A man stood several feet away, pacing while talking into his phone.
His face was red with frustration.
He wasn't yelling at anyone in the store.
Just...
Someone on the other end of the call.
But my body didn't know the difference.
The basket slipped from my fingers.
It hit the floor with a loud thud.
And suddenly...
I couldn't breathe.
The sound echoed through the aisle.
Too loud.
Everything was too loud.
The fluorescent lights buzzed above my head.
The smell of disinfectant filled my nose.
People kept walking past us.
Nobody noticed.
Nobody ever noticed.
Don't cry.
The words weren't mine.
They were his.
"Stop crying."
I couldn't breathe.
I was back in the apartment.
Standing by the front door.
My wrist hurt.
My head hurt.
I knew what happened next.
I always knew.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Hopefully, maybe if I couldn't see him—
"Jisung."
...
Nothing.
The yelling continued somewhere behind me.
Or maybe it didn't.
I couldn't tell anymore.
"Jisung."
The voice sounded far away.
Soft.
Nothing like his.
"...Can you hear me?"
Silence.
"...Jisung."
"...Can you hear me?"
A shaky breath caught in my throat.
That voice...
I knew that voice.
"...Minho?"
"I'm right here."
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
The grocery store came back in pieces.
The shelves.
The shopping basket.
The bright lights.
And Minho.
He was crouched in front of me.
Not touching me.
Not rushing me.
Just...
Waiting.
"Hi," he said softly.
I stared at him.
He smiled. The same gentle smile I'd come to know over the past few months.
"There you are."
My breathing was still uneven.
"I know."
His voice stayed calm.
"You're safe."
I swallowed hard.
"I..."
The words wouldn't come.
"That's okay."
"You don't have to talk yet."
He stayed exactly where he was.
Giving me space.
Giving me time.
Another shaky breath escaped me.
"I'm sorry..."
His expression immediately softened.
"For what?"
"I ruined today."
He shook his head.
“No, you had a flashback."
"Its not the same thing."
Tears burned behind my eyes.
"I hate this."
"I know."
"I thought..."
My voice cracked.
"I thought I was getting better."
"You are."
"It doesn't feel like it."
He nodded slowly.
"I know."
A few seconds passed before he spoke again.
"Can I ask you something?"
I looked at him.
"Can you tell me one thing you can see?"
I blinked.
"...Your hoodie."
He smiled.
"Good."
"One thing you can hear."
I listened.
"...The air conditioner."
"Good."
"And one thing you can feel."
I looked down.
"My hands..."
"They're shaking."
"They are."
"And that's okay."
For some reason...
Hearing him say that made me want to cry even harder.
He waited another moment before asking,
"Would you like to go outside?"
Not,
"Come on."
Not,
"Let's go."
A choice.
I nodded.
"...Please."
He stood, then hesitated.
"Can I hold your hand?"
My heart squeezed.
"...Yeah."
His fingers slipped between mine.
Gentle.
Warm.
He didn't pull.
He let me decide the pace.
Together, we slowly walked outside.
The cool air brushed against my face, grounding me just a little more with every step.
My breathing was steadier now, but the tightness in my chest refused to disappear.
Once we reached the sidewalk, I stopped.
I couldn't move another step.
Minho turned to face me.
The moment his eyes met mine, he noticed the tears gathering faster than I could blink them away.
Without saying a word, he opened his arms.
Giving me the choice.
I didn't hesitate.
The second I stepped into his embrace, something inside me shattered.
The tears I'd been holding back spilled over all at once.
I buried my face against his hoodie, gripping the fabric as quiet sobs shook my body.
Before I knew it, I'd soaked part of his shoulder.
Minho didn't tell me to calm down.
He didn't tell me to stop crying.
He simply held me.
One hand rested gently against the back of my head while the other rubbed slow circles across my back.
"It's okay," he whispered.
"Let it out."
"I'm here."
The words were quiet.
Steady.
Safe.
So I cried.
Not because I was weak.
Not because I was broken.
But because, for the first time, I finally felt safe enough to.
I looked up at him through puffy, tear-filled eyes.
He was smiling.
Not smug.
Not amused.
Just... gentle.
The kind of smile that made me believe everything was going to be okay.
The kind that quietly reminded me I was safe.
He brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face before speaking.
"Are you hungry?"
I let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"...Yeah."
"I thought so."
A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Come on."
He nodded toward the other end of the plaza.
"There's an ice cream shop over there."
"You strike me as someone who deserves ice cream after grocery shopping."
I couldn't help but smile.
"That's... oddly specific."
"I'm a very specific person."
"I can tell."
"Is it working?"
I rolled my eyes, letting out the first genuine laugh I'd managed since we'd walked into the store.
"...Maybe a little."
He smiled a little wider.
"I'll take maybe."
The ice cream shop sat just across the parking lot from the grocery store.
It wasn't anything fancy.
Just a small family-owned place with colorful umbrellas outside and a giant plastic ice cream cone standing beside the entrance.
Minho looked over at me.
"I think we've earned this."
I let out a small laugh.
"I don't think grocery shopping is supposed to be this emotionally exhausting."
"Usually it isn't."
"Good to know."
He opened the door for me.
The sweet smell of waffle cones immediately filled the air.
A teenager behind the counter smiled politely.
"What can I get for you guys?"
I stared at the menu.
There were...
Way too many flavors.
"Uh..."
Minho leaned over slightly.
"Need backup?"
"There are thirty-two flavors."
"There are."
"That's an unreasonable amount of flavors."
"I know."
"Who needs birthday cake, cheesecake, and vanilla cheesecake?"
He nodded thoughtfully.
"...You make a compelling argument."
The girl behind the counter giggled.
I felt my ears getting warm.
Minho noticed.
He always noticed.
"I'll make it easier."
He pointed toward the menu.
"Rule number one."
"There are no wrong choices."
"What if I pick mint chocolate chip?"
He gasped dramatically.
"Okay."
"There is one wrong choice."
I stared at him.
"You did not just insult mint chocolate chip."
"I absolutely did."
"It's refreshing."
"It tastes like toothpaste."
"It does not."
"It literally does."
I crossed my arms.
"I think I need a new boyfriend."
Minho blinked.
"...Already?"
"It's been, what?"
"A week?"
"I gave it a fair chance."
He placed a hand over his heart.
"You wound me."
The girl behind the counter had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing.
"...Are you two always like this?"
Minho answered without missing a beat.
"This is actually one of our calmer conversations."
I nudged his shoulder.
"Liar."
A few minutes later, we walked out with our ice cream.
Mine was strawberry.
His was cookies and cream.
"Good choice," he admitted.
I smiled proudly.
"I know."
He looked down at his own cone.
"...Want to trade?"
"No."
"You didn't even think about it."
"I don't trust you."
"That's fair."
We wandered toward a small bench overlooking the parking lot.
The evening air was warm, carrying the faint smell of the ocean from somewhere beyond the plaza.
For a while...
Neither of us said much.
We just watched people come and go.
A little girl laughed as she chased her older brother across the sidewalk.
An elderly couple shared a milkshake.
Somebody's dog barked excitedly at absolutely nothing.
Life...
Just kept moving.
Minho bumped my shoulder lightly.
"You okay?"
I looked down at my melting ice cream.
"...Yeah."
"You don't sound convinced."
"I was just thinking."
"Dangerous."
I rolled my eyes.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
A laugh escaped me.
"You really are impossible."
"I've been told."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself.
Something felt...
Different.
I couldn't figure out what.
Until I realized—
The tightness in my chest...
Was gone.
I hadn't noticed when it disappeared.
At some point between arguing over mint chocolate chip...
Walking across the parking lot...
And listening to Minho make terrible jokes...
The anxiety had quietly slipped away.
It hadn't been forced.
It hadn't been chased away.
It had simply...
Left.
I looked over at him.
He was licking the melting ice cream off the side of his cone with a look of complete concentration.
"...What?" he asked, noticing me staring.
"Nothing."
"That's suspicious."
"I was just thinking."
"Uh-oh."
I laughed.
"I was thinking..."
I hesitated.
"...Thank you."
His teasing expression softened.
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know."
"But I want to."
He smiled.
The kind of smile that always made me feel warmer than the summer air.
"You're welcome."
A comfortable silence settled between us again.
Then, without warning, he leaned over and took a bite of my ice cream.
I stared at him.
"...Did you just steal my ice cream?"
He looked completely innocent.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You literally have strawberry ice cream on your spoon."
He glanced down.
"...That's unfortunate."
"Minho."
"What?"
"You have your own."
"I was conducting important research."
"Research."
"Mhm."
"To determine..."
He nodded seriously.
"...Whether yours tasted better than mine."
"And?"
He smiled.
"It does."
I sighed dramatically.
"I've made a terrible mistake."
"Dating me?"
"No."
"Buying strawberry."
He laughed so hard he nearly dropped his cone.
By the time we reached the car, the sun had begun dipping below the horizon.
The sky was painted in soft shades of orange, pink, and gold.
Minho unlocked the doors before walking around to the driver's side.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, music played quietly through the speakers.
Neither of us reached to change it.
The silence wasn't awkward.
It never was.
I rested my head against the window, watching the sunset blur past.
A few minutes later...
Without taking his eyes off the road...
Minho reached across the center console.
Not asking for anything.
Just...
Leaving his hand there.
Waiting.
I looked at it for a second before smiling to myself.
Then I slipped my fingers between his.
He gave my hand the gentlest squeeze.
No words.
None were needed.
Outside, the last streaks of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon.
For the first time in what felt like forever...
The drive home didn't feel like the end of the day.
It felt like going exactly where I belonged.
It was around 12:45.
The room had gone quiet.
Outside, I could hear the wind gently rattling the tree branches against the window.
I shifted under the blanket for what had to be the hundredth time.
Sleep still wouldn't come.
"...Jisung?"
"Hm?"
"You've rolled over six times."
"...You've been counting?"
"I got bored after four."
A quiet laugh escaped me.
"...Sorry."
"Don't apologize."
He waited a moment before speaking again.
"...Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"...Would it help if I held you?"
My heart skipped.
He didn't sound embarrassed.
He didn't sound nervous.
He asked it like he'd asked if I wanted ice cream earlier.
Like it wasn't a big deal.
Because if I said no...
He'd simply say okay.
I stared at the ceiling for a second.
"...I've never..."
The words caught in my throat.
"I've never fallen asleep like that before."
"I know."
His voice stayed soft.
"We don't have to."
Another silence settled between us.
Then...
"...I'd like to try."
I felt the mattress shift as he moved a little closer.
Slowly.
Giving me plenty of time to change my mind.
He slipped one arm loosely around my waist.
Not tight.
Just enough for me to know he was there.
"...Is this okay?" he whispered.
I nodded instinctively before remembering he couldn't see me.
"...Yeah."
His hand rested lightly against my side.
Neither of us spoke.
For a while...
We just listened to each other breathe.
"...You're warm," I mumbled.
A quiet chuckle vibrated through his chest.
"So are you."
"...No."
"I'm serious."
"I think you're biased."
"I am."
"...You're my boyfriend."
Heat rushed to my face.
"...You keep saying that."
"I like saying it."
"...Cheesy."
"I've been told."
I smiled into the darkness.
"...Mostly by me."
"Exactly."
Another comfortable silence filled the room.
I hadn't realized how tense my shoulders were until they slowly relaxed.
My breathing matched his without me even noticing.
For the first time all day...
My body stopped waiting for something bad to happen.
"...Minho?"
"Mhm?"
"...Thank you."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then I felt him gently squeeze my side.
"You don't have to thank me for loving you."
...
The words settled somewhere deep inside my chest.
Nobody had ever said something like that to me before.
I didn't know how to answer.
So...
Instead...
I scooted just a tiny bit closer.
He smiled.
I couldn't see it.
But somehow...
I knew.
A few seconds later, he quietly whispered,.
"...Jisung?"
"Hm?"
"...Can I kiss you goodnight?"
...
I couldn't help smiling.
"You know we've already kissed before, right?"
"I know."
"So why are you asking?"
He was quiet for a second.
Then he gave the smallest shrug.
"...Because I never want you to feel like you have to."
...
My heart melted.
"...You really are cheesy."
"I've been told."
"...Mostly by me."
"Almost exclusively by you."
I laughed quietly.
"...Come here."
He smiled.
Slowly, he leaned in.
His lips brushed against mine.
Soft.
Gentle.
Just long enough to make my heart forget how to beat.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine.
Neither of us spoke.
We didn't need to.
I could still feel the warmth of his lips lingering against mine.
The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fan in the corner.
"...Hey, Minho?"
"Hm?"
"...Can I tell you something?"
He smiled softly.
"You can tell me anything."
I hesitated.
Not because I didn't want to say it.
Because I wanted to get the words right.
"You don't have to ask anymore."
His eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"Ask what?"
"To hold my hand."
I reached down, intertwining our fingers beneath the blanket.
"Or kiss me."
His thumb gently brushed over the back of my hand.
"...Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"I know you'll stop if I ever ask you to."
"...I trust you."
For a moment...
He just looked at me.
Like he wasn't sure he'd heard me correctly.
Then he smiled.
Not the teasing smile I was used to.
Not the one that made me roll my eyes.
A real one.
The kind that reached his eyes.
"...Thank you," he whispered.
I laughed quietly.
"For what?"
"For telling me."
His fingers squeezed mine just a little tighter.
"I'll still check in sometimes."
"I know."
"...I don't think I'll ever stop wanting to make sure you're comfortable."
I smiled.
"I think I'd be disappointed if you did."
He chuckled.
"...Good."
Then he leaned forward, pressing one last gentle kiss against my forehead.
"Goodnight."
"...Goodnight."