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#please take this as my offering bc i said binnie’s chapter would be out tonight
godslino · 3 months
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“i need space” | minho established relationship. angst. hurt/comfort.
Minho knows that when you’re in a mood, it’s best to leave you be until you figure it out.
He’s not really one to pry, and you’re not one to be outwardly open when it comes to your feelings either. But Minho can read you, knows what makes you tick, knows when you’re on edge and need the space.
There’s only so much to do in the house that doesn’t involve you. He makes coffee, he watches a bit of tv, he stands at the window and stares at the cars that drive by. The hardest part is resisting the urge to glue himself to your side the way he wants to.
You’ve been in bed for most of the day. You came home last night, shoulders slumped, and didn’t really respond much when he tried asking. “‘M tired,” is all you said, and Minho could only nod and watch as you retreated into the bedroom.
He doesn’t take it personally. He knows you don’t mean it, knows that in time you’ll peek your head around the corner and ask for him to do what he does best: to wrap his arms around you and never let go. So instead of stretching himself thin, he leaves for the gym, and decides to give you room to roam the house freely if you need.
The workout is hard. He thinks about you the whole way through. He stops by your favorite cafe on the way home and orders your coffee exactly the way you like it, plus some pastries. You’ve been asking for the chocolate croissant they sell for weeks now, too busy with work to stop by on your own.
You’re still in bed when he gets back, the sheets pulled up around your shoulders. “Baby,” Minho says quietly, inching forward, “Hey. I got you some coffee, do you want to come out?”
He kneels in front of you, pulls back the blanket to reveal teary, bloodshot eyes. “I thought you were mad,” you croak out, your voice wet.
“What? No, of course I’m not mad. Hey, shh,” he climbs in, pulls the covers down around the both of you and lets you tuck your head under his chin. Minho’s heartbeat is steady against your ear, his hands soft as they run through your hair.
“You left,” you whisper quietly, “I thought I made you mad.”
“Never. I thought, well, I knew you were exhausted. Things have been hard, yeah? I thought you needed space.”
Minho feels your fingers tighten around the fabric of his sweatshirt. He responds by squeezing you tighter, a silent reminder that he’s there.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to say it, but I don’t need space—I need you.”
There’s a silence, filled with the sounds of your staggered breathing and Minho’s shushing. He takes a deep breath, lets it fill his lungs, allows you to take up even more space in his heart; more than he ever thought imaginable.
“I’m here,” he whispers, burying his nose into your hair, “I’m always here.”
.
.
[tags: @jisunglyricist]
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