Jisung

— Can you...

The words got stuck in his throat. Jisung swallowed hard, staring at the worn fabric of Minho's shirt. It had been an exhausting, suffocating day – the kind that drains you completely, leaving absolutely nothing behind. Minho was standing right in front of him, simply waiting, not pushing him to speak.

He tried again, forcing the words out.

— Can you hug me?

Minho didn't hesitate or ask stupid questions. He just stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. Jisung let his forehead drop heavily against Lee's shoulder, finally letting out a long, shaky exhale.

One of Minho's hands pressed flat against his back, grounding him. The other rested at the base of his neck, fingers lightly carding through his hair. Neither of them said anything. Jisung just stood there with his eyes closed, absorbing the much-needed warmth.

— You okay? Minho asked, his voice low and careful.

Jisung shook his head against his shoulder. He didn't have the energy to lie, but he didn't have the words to explain the mess in his head either.

Minho seemed to understand. He didn't pry. He just adjusted his stance, holding him a little tighter.

— I don't know why this is so hard, Jisung muttered into his shirt after a long minute.

— What is?

— Asking for things. He pulled back just enough to look Minho in the eyes. — Wanting things. It feels like... admitting I can't handle my own shit.

Minho looked at him for a second. Then he reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair off Jisung's forehead.

— Needing someone isn't a weakness.

— Feels like it.

— I know, Minho replied, his thumb brushing against Jisung's temple before his hand dropped back down. — But it's not.

Jisung watched him, and something tight and painful in his chest finally began to unspool.

— Can I stay here tonight? His voice sounded completely drained now. — I just... don't want to be alone right now.