Why So Lonely? || Minsung 1/3 ✔️

152

After we eat, I gently tug him up the stairs so he could get some rest. It was barely past nine at night. I don't believe that seeing a few photos was enough to set him off like this, but I didn't want to push. It worried me, though, a lot.

We climb into my bed, wind blowing in from my windows being open. It was nice — wasn't too stuffy. His arms lock around my torso, his face buried in my chest.

"Can I ask you a question?" He speaks up, lifting his head so it wouldn't be muffled.

"Of course."

"Are you ever scared? Of the future, I mean."

The future? I think I'm too stuck in the past to even worry about it. Everything that's happened with my family - it's trapped me, locked me down in some horrible way. I keep taking steps back, to be honest.

"I don't really think about it, my love. I try not to. There's always too much going on for me to worry about that. Why? Are you scared of it?"

He takes a moment to think, and I wait patiently. Does he think about the future a lot? He rarely ever shows me his more vulnerable side. Is this what it is? Is this his true fear?

"Sometimes." The answer was vague. "Can we sleep now?" Sometimes meant all the time, then. He was terrified. I could tell by the way he avoided it with a simple answer.

"Yeah, let's."

I remember when he had made a funny reaction to me saying something about the future. I don't remember what I had said or what he responded, but I could see the expression he made. Pure fear.

Has he always worried about this? Only recently he's made remarks about it. How long have these thoughts been floating around his head? What exactly in the future is he afraid of?

My hand finds it's way into his hair, gently running my fingers through it. I stare up at my ceiling, listening to his breathing. It hasn't slowed yet. I could tell he was awake.

"I love you," I whisper, wondering if he would say it back. Maybe he wanted me to think he was asleep. I'm not really sure.

"I love you, too."

-

"I'm leaving you." The expression on his face said everything. He didn't love me. He didn't care about me. He's been wanting to leave so bad. I could tell.

"Why?"

"I don't want a future with you. You hold me back. I can't stand you." His tone turned irritable, like he was angry by having to talk to me.

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I'm sorry."

"No. Shut the fuck up. You're such a-"

I open my eyes, clenching my jaw tightly. I look over, seeing Minho facing me with his eyes closed. I breathe out the air that I was holding. I don't know where that one came from.

I turn on my side, gazing at my boyfriend. I know that dream wasn't real. He wouldn't be here if he felt that way. I know he loves me. It's just my stressors and anxiety trying to tell me otherwise. Fuck that. Nothing is going to get in the way of us.