Jisung

Every rehearsal in the studio used to be a complete release, the one place where movement felt entirely natural. Minho lived for that focus, loving nothing more than watching his students lock into the rhythm. But everything had changed with a single wrong step. A sharp, blinding pain in his ankle had shattered his momentum, leaving behind a dull, aching frustration.

Now, instead of the studio mirrors, the roof of Jisung's car filled his view. The drive was tense and completely devoid of music – just the heavy weight of Jisung’s worry etched into the tight line of his lips. Minho stared out the window, numbly watching the familiar streets roll by.

Jisung, keeping a firm arm wrapped around his waist, practically carried him up to their apartment. The moment the front door clicked shut behind them, the tension finally snapped.

— How many times have I told you not to push past your limit? Jisung asked, exhaustion lacing his voice alongside that heavy, protective concern. It was frustrating, yet it was the only thing keeping Minho grounded right now.

Jisung settled him onto the couch with a careful, deliberate tenderness. He propped up the pillows, tucked a heavy blanket around his legs, and made sure he didn't have to move a muscle.

By late evening, the pain had settled into a manageable throb, and a random movie played on the television just to fill the room with background noise. The solid warmth of Jisung sitting right beside him, his steady breathing, and their comfortable closeness were slowly melting away the day's anger. Minho sighed, staring blindly at the screen, before shifting his weight and leaning his head onto Jisung's shoulder, finally letting his guard down.

Jisung reached up to gently comb his fingers through Minho’s hair, anchoring him closer.

— You don't have to be strong all the time, Minho, he said, his tone dropping to a steady, comforting murmur. — Especially not with me.