Work Text:
The mansion was unusually quiet for a Thursday morning.
Not silent.
Just...
Comfortably quiet.
The kind of quiet that only happened when everyone had somewhere to be.
Chris had already left for work.
Changbin and Hyunjin had classes.
Jeongin had texted the group chat fifteen minutes ago complaining about an assignment that "definitely hated him."
Felix was out grocery shopping.
Which left just Minho and me.
I stood in the kitchen, absently stirring my coffee while staring out the window above the sink.
The weather had finally settled into summer.
Bright blue skies.
Trees swaying gently in the breeze.
It should've felt peaceful.
Instead...
My mind wouldn't slow down.
I'd spent almost the entire therapy session earlier that morning talking about the future.
About college.
About what came next.
It wasn't a bad session.
Actually...
I'd walked out feeling pretty good.
But the conversation had stayed with me.
Sometimes that happened.
Sometimes I'd leave therapy feeling lighter.
Other times...
The session ended, but my brain kept talking.
"You've been stirring the same cup for like..."
Minho glanced at the microwave clock.
"...A full minute."
I blinked.
"...Have I?"
"Mhm."
I stared absentmindedly into my coffee.
Seungmin looked at me for a second.
"...You're stirring air."
I blinked.
"...What?"
"The coffee's been gone for like... thirty seconds."
I looked down.
"...Oh."
He nodded once.
"Thought you'd wanna know."
Then walked away.
Minho looked at me.
"...See? I'm not the only one noticing."
A smile tugged at Minho's lips.
"You alright?"
"Mhm."
The answer came automatically.
Too automatically.
He didn't say anything.
Just watched me for another second before nodding once.
"If you say so."
He walked over, opening one of the cupboards above my head.
As he reached past me, his hand brushed lightly against my shoulder.
Normally, I would've smiled.
Leaned into him.
Said something sarcastic.
Today...
I just stared back down at my mug.
I heard the cupboard close.
Then footsteps.
Then another pause.
"...Jisung."
"Hm?"
"You sure you're okay?"
I let out a quiet sigh.
"I'm fine."
The words left my mouth before I'd even thought about them.
I hated that phrase.
I'd promised myself months ago I'd stop saying it when I didn't mean it.
Apparently...
Old habits were harder to break than I thought.
Minho rested his hip against the counter beside me.
"You don't have to be."
"I know."
"You've barely said ten words since you got home."
"I'm just thinking."
"About?"
I shrugged.
"I don't know."
That wasn't entirely true.
I knew exactly what I was thinking about.
I just didn't know how to explain it yet.
Or if I even wanted to.
He was quiet for a moment.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"...Not right now."
"Okay."
He smiled softly.
"No pressure."
I nodded.
"...Thanks."
For a little while, that was enough.
We made breakfast together in the comfortable silence we'd always been good at sharing.
Minho hummed quietly while he cooked.
I set the table.
He made toast.
I cut fruit.
Neither of us said much.
It wasn't awkward.
Just...
Different.
Different enough that I noticed it.
Different enough that...
I had a feeling Minho noticed it too.
I just hoped he'd let it go for a little while.
Because the truth was...
I wasn't ready to untangle everything in my head yet.
Not even for him.
I stood there for another minute after we'd finished cleaning up breakfast, absentmindedly drying the same plate twice before finally putting the dish towel down.
"I'm gonna go put the laundry away," Minho said.
"Mhm."
He hesitated.
"...Need any help with anything?"
I shook my head.
"I'm okay."
"Alright."
He disappeared upstairs.
I let out a slow breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
The kitchen suddenly felt...
Too quiet.
I wandered into the living room, curling up in one corner of the couch with one of the books I'd bought on our double date.
I stared at the same page for almost five minutes.
I couldn't tell you a single thing I'd read.
My thoughts kept drifting back to therapy.
Back to everything we'd talked about.
Back to the future.
College.
Work.
The idea of growing up.
It wasn't that I was scared.
Not exactly.
It was more...
Everything suddenly felt very real.
The couch dipped beside me.
I looked up.
Minho had finished upstairs.
He smiled softly.
"Any better?"
I looked back down at my book.
"...Not really."
He nodded once.
"What happened today?"
I traced my thumb along the edge of the page.
"I don't know."
"You've said that a few times."
"I know."
He waited.
I knew he was waiting.
Eventually, I sighed.
"I just..."
The words stopped before they even reached my mouth.
I closed the book.
"...I don't know how to explain it."
"That's okay."
"I don't even know where to start."
"We can figure it out together."
I appreciated that.
I really did.
But every time he asked another question, it felt like the knot in my chest pulled a little tighter.
"I'm just..."
I searched for the right word.
"...Overthinking."
"About what?"
"I don't know."
He frowned slightly.
"Jisung."
"I'm serious."
"I know you are."
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
"I'm just trying to understand."
"I know."
"So help me understand."
"I can't."
The words came out sharper than I'd intended.
His expression changed almost immediately.
Not hurt.
Just...
Taken aback.
"I wasn't trying to pressure you."
"I know."
"Then why does it feel like you're pushing me away?"
"I'm not."
"It feels like you are."
"I just need some time."
"I've been giving you time."
"I know."
Another silence settled between us.
Longer this time.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I don't need you to have all the answers."
"I know."
"I don't need you to explain everything perfectly."
"I know."
"I just..."
He looked at me.
"I hate seeing you like this."
Something inside me snapped.
"What do you want me to do, Minho?"
The words came out louder than I meant them to.
He blinked.
"I—"
"No, seriously."
I stood up before I even realized I was doing it.
"What do you want me to say?"
"I never said—"
"You keep asking me what's wrong."
"Because I'm worried about you."
"I told you I needed time."
"And I respected that."
"For five minutes!"
The room fell silent.
The second the words left my mouth...
I wished I could take them back.
Minho stared at me.
"...Five minutes?"
"I didn't mean—"
"You think that's what I've been doing?"
"No."
"I've been trying to help."
"I know."
"Then why are you acting like I'm the problem?"
"I'm not."
"It really feels like you are."
I rubbed both hands over my face.
"I didn't say you were."
"You didn't have to."
He stood up too now.
His voice never got loud.
If anything...
It got quieter.
"I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."
"I don't either."
"I ask if you're okay."
"You say you're fine."
"I ask if you want to talk."
"You say no."
"I give you space."
"You get upset that I asked."
His shoulders rose with a slow breath before falling again.
"I'm trying, Jisung."
"I know you are."
"Then let me."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
The words echoed through the room.
Silence.
Neither of us spoke.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
Minho looked down at the floor for a long moment.
When he finally looked back at me, there wasn't any anger in his eyes anymore.
Just frustration.
And exhaustion.
He let out a slow breath.
"...I need to get out of here for a little while."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"I can't keep having this conversation right now."
He turned toward the front door.
"Minho—"
"I just..."
He stopped for half a second, running a hand through his hair.
"I need some air."
Before I could say anything else, he grabbed his keys from the hook beside the door.
The sound of the metal jingling echoed through the quiet house.
He opened the front door.
For just a second...
I thought he was going to turn around.
He didn't.
The door closed behind him.
A few seconds later, I heard his car start.
Then...
Nothing.
The silence felt deafening.
I stood exactly where I was, staring at the front door long after he'd gone.
Part of me wanted to run after him.
Part of me wanted to text him.
Part of me wanted to pretend none of this had happened.
Instead...
I slowly sank down onto the couch, pulling my knees toward my chest.
The room suddenly felt far too big.
I kept replaying the conversation over and over in my head.
Every word.
Every pause.
Every moment I should've answered differently.
Maybe if I'd just explained myself.
Maybe if I hadn't snapped.
Maybe...
A buzz from my phone broke the silence.
I looked down.
Felix: Where did minho go?
I stared at the screen.
Another buzz.
Felix: did smthn happen?
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard.
Nothing came out.
Another vibration.
This time from Jeongin.
Jeongin: u ok?
I swallowed hard.
The words on the screen blurred as fresh tears filled my eyes.
I locked my phone without answering.
I didn't know what to say.
Because honestly...
I wasn't sure what had just happened.
I don't know how long I sat there.
Five minutes.
Maybe ten.
Time felt strange.
The living room had never been this quiet before.
Usually someone was laughing upstairs.
Felix was singing while he cooked.
Chris was talking on the phone.
Something.
Anything.
Now...
There was nothing.
I wiped at my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, taking a slow, shaky breath.
"...Nice going."
My own voice sounded unfamiliar in the empty room.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
I kept replaying everything we'd said.
Or...
Everything we hadn't.
He wasn't trying to make me talk.
He was trying to help.
And I'd snapped at him anyway.
I groaned quietly, rubbing both hands over my face.
"...I'm an idiot."
Another buzz came from my phone.
I already knew who it was before I even looked.
felix
i'm making grilled cheese
A second message appeared almost immediately.
if you want one
I stared at the screen.
Felix had to know something was wrong.
Normally I would've replied with a dramatic yes please followed by way too many exclamation marks.
Instead...
I just looked at the message.
Another notification.
This time from Hyunjin.
hyunjin
don't feel like you have to answer
just wanted to make sure you're okay
My chest tightened.
They weren't asking questions anymore.
They were just...
Waiting.
I locked my phone again.
I still couldn't bring myself to answer.
I wasn't avoiding them.
I just...
Didn't know what to say.
Slowly, I pushed myself off the couch.
Maybe keeping busy would help.
I wandered into the kitchen.
The breakfast dishes we'd forgotten to put away were still sitting on the drying rack.
One of Minho's mugs was beside the sink.
Half full.
He hadn't even finished his coffee.
I stared at it for a long moment.
Then quietly poured it down the sink.
It felt wrong.
Like I was admitting he wasn't coming back anytime soon.
"...Stop it."
I shook my head.
"He went for a drive."
"That's all."
I wanted to believe myself.
I filled a glass with water instead.
Took one sip.
Put it back on the counter.
I wasn't thirsty.
I wandered upstairs.
Opened my bedroom door.
Closed it again.
Picked up the book I'd been reading.
Read the same sentence four times.
Set it back down.
Nothing could keep my attention.
Everything reminded me of him.
The hoodie draped over my desk chair.
The charger he'd borrowed and forgotten to give back.
The photo strip sticking out of my book.
The blanket folded neatly at the end of the bed.
I sat down on the edge of the mattress, staring at the floor.
This was our first argument.
Our first real one.
I knew couples argued.
It was normal.
Healthy, even.
So why did it hurt this much?
Maybe because I'd gotten so used to him being the person I talked to whenever something was wrong.
And now...
The thing that was wrong...
Was us.
The thought alone made my throat tighten.
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
Then another.
I buried my face in my hands.
"I'm sorry..."
The words barely made it past my lips.
"I didn't mean it."
I wasn't even sure whether I was apologizing to Minho...
Or to myself.
A car door slammed somewhere outside.
I frowned.
For a second, I wondered if Chris had gotten home early.
Then I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Familiar.
My heart skipped.
No...
It couldn't be already.
I held my breath as I heard the front door downstairs open.
Then close.
Silence.
A few muffled sounds drifted up from the first floor.
I couldn't make out any words.
Just the quiet rustle of a paper bag.
I sat perfectly still, staring toward my bedroom door.
Someone was home.
And somehow...
I already knew exactly who it was.
For a long moment, I didn't move.
I listened instead.
The front door closed quietly.
A few footsteps echoed through the hallway downstairs.
Then...
Nothing.
No voices.
No television.
Just silence.
I wiped quickly at my face with the sleeve of my hoodie, trying to make myself look at least a little less like I'd been crying.
It didn't work.
A minute passed.
Then another.
I started wondering if I'd imagined the whole thing.
Maybe he'd forgotten something and left again.
Maybe—
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
Three gentle taps against the bedroom door.
I froze.
"...Jisung?"
Minho's voice was quiet.
Careful.
I stared at the floor.
"...Yeah?"
Another small pause.
"Can I come in?"
My throat felt tight.
"...Okay."
The handle turned slowly.
Minho stepped inside, closing the door behind him just as gently.
For a second...
Neither of us said anything.
His eyes found mine almost immediately.
Then drifted to the tear stains I hadn't managed to hide.
His shoulders sank.
"...Hey."
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Only now did I notice what he was carrying.
A small paper bag hung from one hand.
In the other...
A bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper.
Not anything extravagant.
Just a handful of little white daisies mixed with pale yellow flowers.
The kind that looked like they'd been picked because they were cheerful.
Not because they were expensive.
I blinked.
"...You bought flowers?"
He looked down at them like he'd almost forgotten he was holding them.
"...Yeah."
A tiny, awkward smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"I... wasn't really sure what people buy after their first argument."
Despite everything...
A quiet laugh escaped me.
It came out watery and uneven.
"You... Googled it, didn't you?"
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Maybe."
"You Googled it."
"I panicked."
That made me laugh again.
Only this time it lasted a little longer.
The knot in my chest loosened, just enough to let me breathe.
"I also brought these."
He held up the paper bag.
"I remembered they had your favorite snacks."
I looked inside.
My favorite chocolate.
The honey butter chips I was always stealing from everyone else.
A bottle of peach tea.
"...You bought half the convenience store."
"I was covering all my bases."
I couldn't help smiling.
The room fell quiet again.
This time...
The silence didn't feel heavy.
Just uncertain.
Minho looked at me for a long moment before quietly setting the flowers and snacks on my desk.
When he turned back toward me, his hands disappeared into the pockets of his hoodie.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"...Can we try that again?"
I looked up at him.
"What?"
"The conversation."
His voice was soft.
"I don't think either of us said what we actually meant."
I felt my eyes sting again.
Not because I was sad.
Because hearing him say that made me realize neither of us wanted to win the argument.
We just wanted each other back.
I nodded before I could stop myself.
"...Yeah."
A small breath escaped him.
Almost like he'd been holding it ever since he'd walked through the front door.
He took one careful step closer.
"I think I spent the entire drive realizing I was asking you questions when what you really needed was someone to sit with you."
I looked down at my hands.
"And I think..."
My voice cracked.
"...I kept saying I was fine because I didn't know how to explain what was going on in my own head."
Neither of us spoke.
The space between us suddenly didn't feel nearly as wide as it had an hour ago.
Minho hesitated.
Then quietly sat down beside me on the edge of the bed.
Not too close.
Just...
Close enough.
"I wasn't trying to fix you," he said after a moment.
"I know."
"I just hate seeing you hurting."
I swallowed.
"I know."
Another silence settled over us.
This one felt familiar.
Comfortable.
The kind we'd always been good at sharing.
Without thinking, my hand shifted across the blanket until my fingers brushed against his.
He looked down.
Then gently laced our fingers together.
Neither of us said anything.
We didn't have to.
Sometimes...
Holding his hand said everything I couldn't.
For a long while...
Neither of us moved.
His hand stayed wrapped around mine, warm and familiar.
It was amazing how something so simple could quiet my thoughts.
"I was scared."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Minho turned his head slightly.
"Scared of what?"
I stared down at our hands.
"I don't know."
I laughed quietly, shaking my head.
"I think that's what frustrated me so much."
"I couldn't explain it."
"I couldn't even explain it to myself."
"I just..."
I swallowed.
"My brain wouldn't stop."
"It felt like every thought kept turning into five more."
"I know therapy is helping."
"It really is."
"But sometimes I leave and..."
I searched for the right words.
"...I feel like my head keeps having the conversation even after I've gone home."
He listened without interrupting.
Without trying to solve it.
Without offering advice.
He just...
Listened.
"I didn't know how to tell you that."
"So I kept saying I was fine."
"And the more I said it..."
I sighed.
"...The less true it became."
Minho nodded slowly.
"I think..."
He paused for a second.
"I forgot that sometimes you don't need answers."
"You just need time."
I looked over at him.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
He gave my hand a small squeeze.
"I shouldn't have kept asking after you told me you weren't ready."
"And I shouldn't have snapped at you."
A tiny smile appeared on his face.
"We're both kind of stubborn."
I laughed through the last of my tears.
"...A little."
"A lot."
"...Maybe."
For the first time all afternoon...
The room felt like ours again.
Comfortable.
Safe.
Minho glanced toward the flowers sitting on my desk.
"...Do you like them?"
I followed his gaze.
"They're really pretty."
"I almost bought sunflowers."
"What happened?"
"They were taller than me."
I laughed.
"I would've paid to see you trying to fit those in the car."
"I considered it."
"I'm sure you did."
He smiled, looking down at our joined hands again.
"I really did panic."
"I noticed."
"I've never done this before."
"What?"
"Our first argument."
The smile on my face softened.
"...Me neither."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"I didn't like it."
"I didn't either."
"I kept thinking..."
He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand.
"...'I hope he's okay.'"
I felt my throat tighten.
"I kept thinking..."
I smiled weakly.
"...'He's going to come back.'"
His eyes met mine.
"You knew I would?"
I nodded.
"I was upset."
"I was frustrated."
"I was crying."
"But..."
I shrugged lightly.
"I never thought you were leaving."
His shoulders seemed to relax.
"I wasn't."
"I know."
A comfortable silence settled over us again.
Then, almost absentmindedly, he lifted our joined hands and pressed a gentle kiss against the back of mine.
"So..."
I smiled.
"So?"
"Can we agree on something?"
"Depends."
"If one of us says, 'I need time,'..."
He looked at me.
"...The other one believes them."
I nodded.
"And..."
I took a small breath.
"If one of us isn't okay..."
"We stop saying we're fine."
His smile returned.
"I think that's a good deal."
"I think so too."
He stood, reaching for the paper bag he'd left on my desk.
"Oh."
"Almost forgot—I got dessert too."
He handed it to me.
I peeked inside, smiling despite myself.
"...You really did buy half the store."
"I wanted options."
I laughed, shaking my head.
"You're unbelievable."
"I've been told that."
I reached over, taking one of the chocolate bars before setting the bag beside me.
Then, without really thinking about it...
I stood.
The space between us disappeared in two small steps.
I wrapped my arms around him first.
He didn't hesitate.
His arms slipped around my waist, holding me close as I buried my face against his shoulder.
Neither of us spoke.
We didn't need to.
His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear.
Familiar.
Comforting.
Home.
After a while, I leaned back just enough to look up at him.
"...I'm really glad you came back."
A soft smile spread across his face.
"I was always going to."
He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear before resting his forehead against mine.
"I'm not going anywhere."
This time, when he kissed me, it wasn't to fix anything.
It wasn't an apology.
It wasn't a promise.
It was simply a quiet reminder that we were okay.
When we finally pulled away, I couldn't stop smiling.
Neither could he.
Somehow...
Our first argument hadn't made us weaker.
It had reminded us that even when things got messy...
We would always find our way back to each other.
Dinner somehow turned into everyone staying around the table far longer than usual.
Chris had started telling another story from work.
Changbin kept interrupting him.
Hyunjin insisted half of it was made up.
Felix laughed so hard he nearly choked on his drink.
Jeongin looked completely lost.
Seungmin quietly ate his dessert like none of the chaos had anything to do with him.
Eventually, people started drifting off one by one.
Chris disappeared upstairs first.
Changbin followed not long after.
Felix announced he was "too emotionally exhausted" to do the dishes, even though nobody knew why.
Hyunjin rolled his eyes and followed him anyway.
Jeongin offered to help clean before yawning halfway through his sentence.
"...I'm going to bed."
"Goodnight," I laughed.
Seungmin picked up his empty glass.
He looked at Minho.
Then at me.
"...Goodnight."
"...Night."
He gave one small nod before heading upstairs.
The house slowly settled back into its usual evening quiet.
Minho nudged my shoulder gently.
"Wanna head upstairs?"
I smiled.
"...Yeah."
Our room felt different tonight.
Not because anything had changed.
Because we'd changed.
The flowers sat on the windowsill now, catching the last bit of orange sunlight spilling through the curtains.
I found myself looking at them again.
"They're really pretty."
Minho glanced over while pulling his hoodie off.
"I almost didn't buy them."
"Why?"
"I stood outside the flower shop for like five minutes."
I laughed.
"Why?"
"I was trying to convince myself flowers weren't cliché."
"And?"
"...Turns out I didn't care."
"You definitely didn't."
"I really didn't."
I smiled to myself as I changed into one of my oversized T-shirts.
The room fell quiet again.
Not awkward.
Just...
Comfortable.
Minho sat cross-legged on the bed, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone for a moment before setting it face down on the nightstand.
"No phones?"
I asked.
He looked at me.
"...No phones."
I smiled.
"I like that idea."
I climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling my legs underneath me.
For a while...
We just sat there.
Watching the sky slowly fade from orange...
To pink...
Then purple.
"I hated today."
Minho broke the silence first.
I looked over at him.
"...Me too."
"I know arguments happen."
"Mhm."
"But..."
He sighed quietly.
"I don't ever want us to stop talking."
My chest tightened.
"We won't."
"I know."
He smiled a little.
"I just needed to hear you say it."
I reached over, taking his hand.
"I think..."
I looked down at our fingers.
"...Next time I'll tell you if I don't know how to explain something."
"You don't have to explain it perfectly."
"I know."
"I just need to know you're letting me in."
I nodded slowly.
"And next time..."
He continued.
"If you tell me you need time..."
"I'll stop trying to fix it."
I couldn't help smiling.
"...Deal?"
He held out his pinky.
I stared at it for a second before laughing.
"...We're doing pinky promises?"
"They're legally binding."
"Oh, are they?"
"Absolutely."
I wrapped my pinky around his.
"There."
He nodded once.
"Now neither of us is allowed to break it."
"Guess we're stuck."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
I leaned forward until my forehead rested against his.
For a few seconds...
Neither of us moved.
I could hear the faint hum of the ceiling fan above us.
The occasional laughter drifting upstairs from someone who clearly wasn't asleep yet.
The quiet rhythm of Minho's breathing.
"I'm really lucky," I whispered.
He frowned.
"Why?"
"Because..."
I smiled.
"...You came back."
He didn't answer straight away.
Instead, he lifted one hand and gently brushed a strand of hair away from my eyes.
"I was always coming back."
The words settled somewhere deep inside my chest.
I believed him.
Completely.
He leaned in slowly.
This kiss was nothing like the ones we'd shared on our date.
Nothing like the hurried little pecks we'd stolen throughout the week.
It was soft.
Patient.
Unspoken.
The kind of kiss that didn't need to prove anything.
When we finally pulled apart, neither of us moved very far.
He rested his forehead against mine again.
"You know..."
He murmured.
"Hm?"
"I think we survived our first argument."
A laugh escaped me.
"...Barely."
"We'll get better."
"I think so too."
He smiled.
"I hope the second one's in, like..."
He pretended to think.
"...Three years."
I laughed harder this time.
"I was thinking ten."
"I can work with ten."
"I'll pencil it into my calendar."
He grinned.
"Perfect."
For the first time that day...
Everything felt light again.
I reached over and switched off the bedside lamp.
The room slipped into darkness, leaving only the soft glow of the moon through the window.
As Minho wrapped an arm around my waist and I settled against his chest, I realized something.
Today hadn't been perfect.
It had been messy.
We'd both said things we wished we could take back.
We'd both cried.
We'd both needed time.
And somehow...
We'd still ended the day exactly where we wanted to be.
Together.
As I listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek, I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow would probably bring new worries.
New conversations.
Maybe even new mistakes.
But tonight...
Tonight was enough.
Later that night, I felt like I couldn't breathe.
A nightmare clung to me even after I forced my eyes open.
My chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths.
Darkness.
Our room.
The ceiling.
I knew where I was.
I knew.
But it didn't feel like it.
I threw the blanket off me before I could think.
I needed...
I didn't even know what I needed.
I stumbled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me without making a sound.
The light felt blinding.
I turned the cold water on as far as it would go.
It rushed over my hands.
Too warm.
I turned it colder.
Still wrong.
I scrubbed harder.
The nightmare hadn't been real.
I knew that.
I knew it hadn't.
So why did it still feel like I could feel his hands on me?
"No..."
The word barely left my mouth.
"No..."
I rubbed harder.
Soap.
More soap.
The scent filled the room.
Still not enough.
"It won't..."
My voice cracked.
"It won't come off..."
The tears started before I even realized I was crying.
My nails dug into the backs of my hands as I scrubbed harder and harder.
"It won't come off..."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"Please..."
The bathroom door suddenly opened.
"Jisung?"
Minho.
His voice sounded sleepy for exactly half a second.
Then...
Everything changed.
"What are you doing?"
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
I just kept scrubbing.
"Jisung."
His footsteps crossed the bathroom almost instantly.
Then stopped.
"...Hey."
His voice caught.
I looked down.
The sink water had turned pink.
Blood.
Tiny crescents where my nails had broken the skin.
I hadn't even noticed.
"Oh, God..."
The panic in Minho's voice hit me harder than anything else.
He reached for my wrists.
I jerked away instinctively.
"No!"
The word tore out of me.
"I need—"
My breathing hitched.
"I need to get it off."
"Jisung."
"It won't come off!"
I scrubbed again.
"It won't—"
"Jisung!"
His voice was louder this time.
Not angry.
Desperate.
He caught both of my wrists before I could scrub again.
I fought against his grip.
"Please!"
"There isn't anything on your hands."
"There is!"
"There isn't."
"You don't understand!"
"I know."
His own breathing sounded almost as uneven as mine now.
"I know."
His grip stayed firm.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to stop me.
My entire body shook.
"It won't come off..."
I whispered.
"It won't..."
Minho's face crumpled.
He looked at the blood on my hands.
Then back at me.
His eyes filled with tears almost instantly.
"Oh, Sung..."
His voice broke.
"It was a nightmare."
I shook my head violently.
"It felt real."
"I know."
"It felt so real."
"I know."
His thumbs carefully brushed against my wrists.
The water was still running between us.
Cold.
Loud.
"I've got you."
I couldn't stop crying.
"I've got you."
"I can't..."
"You don't have to do this by yourself."
Something inside me finally gave way.
The fight drained out of me all at once.
My knees buckled.
Minho caught me before I could hit the floor.
I buried my face against his shoulder, sobbing so hard my chest hurt.
"I'm sorry..."
The words came out over and over between shaky breaths.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"Hey."
His voice was trembling now too.
"You don't have anything to apologize for."
I could feel one of his hands shaking against my back as he held me.
The other reached behind him to turn off the faucet.
The bathroom fell quiet.
Except for my crying.
And the sound of both of us trying to breathe.
I don't know how long we stayed like that.
Maybe a minute.
Maybe ten.
Time had stopped making sense.
I couldn't stop crying.
Every breath caught somewhere in my throat before it could become anything more than another broken sob.
Minho didn't let go.
Not once.
He held me so tightly it almost hurt.
Almost.
"...I've got you."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"I've got you."
My fingers curled weakly into the back of his shirt.
"I thought..."
Another sob cut me off.
"I thought I was..."
"I know."
"I know."
"No."
I shook my head against his shoulder.
"You don't."
"I could feel..."
The words tangled together.
"I could still feel him."
Everything went quiet.
Not because the room was silent.
Because Minho had gone completely still.
His arms tightened around me.
Just enough for me to notice.
"...You're here."
His voice trembled.
"You're here with me."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
"It didn't feel like it."
"I know."
"I know it didn't."
He rested his cheek lightly against my hair.
"But look at me for a second."
I couldn't.
"I can't."
"You can."
His voice cracked on the last word.
"Please."
Slowly...
I lifted my head.
His eyes were red.
He'd been crying too.
I hadn't even noticed.
He gave me the smallest smile.
The kind that was trying very hard not to fall apart.
"Hi."
A watery laugh escaped me before another tear rolled down my face.
"...Hi."
"There you are."
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Like he'd been waiting for me to come back.
His gaze drifted down.
Only then did I follow it.
My hands.
Little crescent-shaped cuts covered the backs of them.
Some had already stopped bleeding.
Others hadn't.
My stomach dropped.
"...I did that?"
He nodded carefully.
"You didn't know."
"I..."
I stared at them.
"I didn't even feel it."
"I know."
I felt sick.
"I ruined everything."
"What?"
"The flowers."
I looked over toward the bathroom counter.
Tiny drops of blood had landed on the white paper wrapped around the bouquet.
"They're ruined."
My voice broke again.
"I'm sorry."
For a second...
Minho just stared at me.
Then he reached over and picked the flowers up.
He looked at the tiny red spots before setting them back down.
"They're flowers."
I swallowed.
"They're just flowers."
"But—"
"They can be replaced."
He looked me straight in the eyes.
"You can't."
Fresh tears spilled over before I could stop them.
His own eyes filled again.
"I don't care about the flowers."
"I care about you."
The room fell silent.
He took a slow breath.
"I'm going to clean your hands, okay?"
I hesitated.
"...Okay."
He reached into the bathroom cabinet with one hand, never letting go of mine with the other.
A small first-aid kit.
Antiseptic.
Bandages.
He knelt down in front of me.
"I know this might sting."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing."
His voice came out a little firmer this time.
Not harsh.
Just...
Certain.
"You don't have to apologize for having a nightmare."
He dampened a cloth with warm water before gently wiping away the dried blood.
I flinched.
"I'm sorry."
He looked up at me.
"There it is again."
"...Sorry."
A tiny, exhausted smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"...You just did it again."
Despite everything...
I laughed.
It was weak.
Shaky.
But it was real.
"There you are."
He smiled back.
"I missed that."
He carefully placed small bandages over each of the cuts.
His hands were still trembling.
I noticed because one of the bandages went on slightly crooked.
He frowned at it.
"...That's bothering you, isn't it?"
"A little."
"It suits me."
He looked up.
"What?"
"My hands."
I held them up.
"The bandages are crooked."
"They're... kind of a mess."
"So am I."
For a moment...
Neither of us spoke.
Then Minho surprised me.
He laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because he looked so relieved to hear me making a joke.
"...You're impossible."
"I've been told that."
"You've definitely been told that."
He stood slowly before offering me both hands.
"Come on."
"Where?"
"Back to bed."
I glanced toward the bedroom.
"I don't think I can sleep."
"I know."
He gave my hands the gentlest squeeze, careful not to touch the bandages.
"So..."
He took a quiet breath.
"We won't sleep."
"We'll just stay awake together."
I looked at him.
"...You'd do that?"
He looked almost offended.
"Jisung."
He stepped closer until our foreheads touched.
"There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be."
The tightness in my chest eased.
Not completely.
The nightmare was still there.
Lurking at the edges of my mind.
But this time...
I wasn't facing it alone.
He intertwined our fingers as carefully as he could around the fresh bandages.
Then, without another word...
He led me out of the bathroom.
And back to bed with him.
The bedroom felt different when we walked back in.
Quieter.
The moonlight spilled through the gap in the curtains, painting pale streaks across the floor.
Neither of us climbed into bed straight away.
Minho disappeared for a moment before coming back with two glasses of water.
He handed one to me.
"...Drink."
I wrapped both hands around the glass.
The coolness grounded me.
I took a few slow sips.
He didn't say anything.
He just watched until I finished almost half of it.
"Good."
I managed the smallest nod.
We climbed into bed without another word.
I curled onto my side automatically.
A few seconds later...
The mattress dipped beside me.
Minho reached over, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders before settling beside me.
Normally...
I'd be tucked against his chest within seconds.
Tonight...
I couldn't stop staring at the ceiling.
The room was silent.
Except for the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.
And our breathing.
"...You're thinking again."
His voice was barely louder than the fan above us.
"Mhm."
"Nightmare?"
I swallowed.
"...Pieces of it."
He nodded slowly.
"I figured."
Another silence settled between us.
"I keep closing my eyes..."
My fingers instinctively curled against the blanket.
"...And every time I do..."
The words caught in my throat.
"I think I'm going to see it again."
"You don't have to pretend you're okay."
I turned my head toward him.
"What?"
"You don't have to do anything right now."
His eyes met mine.
"We can just lie here."
"...All night?"
"If we have to."
"You'll be exhausted."
"I'll survive."
A weak smile tugged at my lips.
"...You're stubborn."
"I learned from you."
That earned the smallest laugh.
He smiled too.
"There it is."
I looked away again.
"...I'm sorry I woke you."
He sighed quietly.
"Sung."
"Hm?"
"If you apologize one more time..."
I looked back at him.
"...What?"
"I'm going to count."
"...Count?"
"You've apologized seventeen times."
My eyebrows lifted.
"...Seventeen?"
"I stopped counting after seventeen."
Despite everything...
I laughed.
"You did not."
"I absolutely did."
"...You're lying."
"I'm estimating."
I shook my head.
"...That's still lying."
"It sounds better when I call it estimating."
The laughter faded into another comfortable silence.
Not heavy this time.
Just tired.
I noticed his eyes drifting toward my hands again.
The crooked little bandages caught the moonlight.
"...Do they hurt?"
I looked down.
"...A little."
He reached over slowly.
"So do mine."
I frowned.
"What?"
"My hands."
He held them up.
I could barely make them out in the darkness.
"They're sore."
"Why?"
He smiled weakly.
"I was holding onto you pretty tight."
The image made my chest ache.
"...Thank you."
"You don't thank people for that."
"I do."
He shook his head.
"No."
"You don't."
"You let me."
The words settled quietly between us.
He shifted a little closer until our shoulders touched.
"I was scared."
I looked at him.
"I know."
"No..."
He stared at the ceiling.
"I mean..."
His voice cracked.
"I've never been that scared before."
My heart sank.
"When I walked into the bathroom..."
He stopped speaking altogether.
His jaw tightened.
"I saw the blood..."
He swallowed hard.
"And you kept saying it wouldn't come off."
His breathing hitched.
"I didn't know what to do."
I reached over carefully, mindful of the bandages, and rested my hand over his.
"You did."
He looked at me.
"You came."
A tear slipped down his cheek before he could wipe it away.
"I almost wasn't fast enough."
"You were."
"I should've woken up sooner."
"You couldn't have."
"I should've heard you."
I squeezed his hand gently.
"Min."
He finally looked at me.
"You found me."
His eyes searched mine for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"...I found you."
"You always do."
For a second...
Neither of us moved.
Then he shifted closer, wrapping one arm around my waist.
Not tightly.
Just enough for me to know he was there.
I rested my head against his shoulder.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat filled the silence.
Every beat reminded me where I was.
Who I was with.
What was real.
Minutes passed.
Maybe longer.
Eventually, my breathing matched his.
The tightness in my chest eased.
Not because the nightmare was gone.
But because it had been replaced.
By the sound of his heartbeat.
By the warmth of his arm around me.
By the quiet certainty that I wasn't alone anymore.
Just before I drifted off, I felt gentle lips press against the top of my head.
"So you know," Minho whispered into the darkness.
"Hm?"
"If it happens again..."
He paused.
"I'm still coming to find you."
I closed my eyes.
This time...
The darkness didn't feel nearly as frightening.
"...I know."
And for the first time since I'd woken from the nightmare...
I let myself fall asleep.