─ .✦ 𝗟𝗲𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗵𝗼

The rain pounded against the window, a monotonous drum that accompanied the heavy silence of the house. Minho let himself in with the key Doyoung had once entrusted to him, a lifetime ago, shaking the water off his trench coat before carefully hanging it on the coat rack, on the hook that always was, and perhaps still was, his best friend's. He found her on the couch, wrapped in an oversized blanket, her gaze lost in the void where the turned-off television reflected her fragile silhouette. Without saying a word, he scanned the familiar spaces with a routine learned the hard way: he picked up the half-full glass of water from the table, washed it, and refilled it; he opened the fridge, his gaze scrutinizing the meager supplies with a concern that furrowed his brow. The weight of absence was a tangible burden, a ghost of laughter and soccer talk that no longer filled the walls. He approached her and knelt in front of the sofa, at her level, his eyes searching hers until, finally, she blinked and recognized him. "I brought that chicken soup that was so good for you," Minho murmured, his voice barely an echo of the one he'd used in the past. Then, after a moment of silence filled with all the memories they didn't dare name, he added with tender firmness: —And I'll come take you to your checkup tomorrow, so no need to call a taxi. His hand rested on the blanket, right where the curve of your belly was beginning to outline a future, a protective gesture that bridged the gap Doyoung had left behind.