nurse's office | minsung ✓

6

Jisung didn't expect to return to the nurse's office as soon as he did. After all, he had spent so much time convincing himself that he didn't need anyone—that he could handle it all on his own. But something about being in that small room with Minho, where the rest of the world seemed to fade away, had started to feel...safe.

So, when the noise of the school halls felt too loud or the weight of the day pressed down on his shoulders again, his feet automatically carried him to the nurse's office. At first, he tried to make excuses—telling himself that maybe he just wasn't feeling well or that he could pretend he needed a break from class—but the truth was, he didn't need a reason. Minho never asked for one.

The routine became familiar: slip out of the classroom when the pressure built up too much, take a quiet walk down the halls, and knock softly on the nurse's door. It wasn't long before Minho stopped looking surprised when Jisung showed up. He simply gestured to the usual chair and offered that same calm look, like he had all the time in the world for whatever Jisung wanted to say—or didn't want to say.

Today was no different.

Jisung had barely made it through his first few classes before the tension in his chest had become unbearable. The familiar feeling of his thoughts closing in, one after another, pushed him out of the classroom and down the hall. By now, he wasn't even sure if the teachers noticed. He wasn't sure if they cared.

When he reached the office, Minho was sitting at his desk, as usual, scribbling something in his notebook. He didn't look up right away, but as soon as Jisung stepped inside, Minho glanced over at him, the corner of his mouth lifting in the smallest smile.

"Rough morning?" he asked, his tone casual.

Jisung shrugged, not trusting his voice to answer. He just sank into the chair across from Minho and stared at his hands, feeling the silence settle between them.

There were days when they talked—really talked—and days when they didn't. Today felt like one of the quiet days, and Jisung was grateful for it. His mind was too tangled to unravel right now, and he didn't have the energy to explain what was going on in his head.

Minho didn't press. He never did.

Instead, Minho got up from his desk and walked over to the small cabinet in the corner of the room. He rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a small, white bandage and a bottle of antiseptic. Jisung's eyes followed him as he returned, setting the items on the desk between them.

"You've been scratching again," Minho said softly, his eyes briefly flickering over the red marks lining Jisung's arms.

Jisung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pulling his sleeves down to hide the scratches. He hated that Minho had noticed. Hated that he had to see the physical evidence of how badly Jisung was unraveling.

Without saying anything, Minho reached for Jisung's arm. His touch was gentle as he pulled the sleeve back up, exposing the marks once more. Jisung tensed, but Minho didn't say a word. He just dabbed the antiseptic onto a piece of cotton and began to clean the scratches with the same calm care he always had.

It wasn't the first time he'd done this.

Jisung had lost count of how many times he'd shown up with bruises, scrapes, or cuts, all self-inflicted in moments of frustration. But Minho never judged him for it. He didn't scold him or ask him to explain why. He just quietly tended to the wounds, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"You don't have to do this," Jisung mumbled after a few minutes, his voice rough.

Minho's hands didn't falter as he wrapped the bandage around Jisung's forearm. "I know," he replied simply.

That was the thing about Minho—he never pushed, but he never let Jisung slip away completely either. He was there, steady as always, even when Jisung didn't know what he needed.

"I didn't mean to," Jisung admitted quietly, staring at the floor. "It just...happens."

"I know," Minho said again, his voice gentle but firm.

Jisung felt something inside him crack at those words. I know. It was such a simple phrase, but the way Minho said it made Jisung feel like he didn't have to explain. Like Minho understood, even without words.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jisung allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn't have to fight this battle on his own.

When Minho finished bandaging the last scratch, he sat back down, his eyes scanning Jisung's face as if waiting for him to speak. The silence stretched between them again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable.

"I miss them," Jisung blurted out, his voice barely above a whisper. He hadn't meant to say it, but once the words left his mouth, he couldn't stop. "Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin...I miss them so much."

Minho didn't look surprised. He just nodded, his expression softening. "It's hard when the people you care about aren't around," he said. "Especially when they've been such a big part of your life."

Jisung's throat tightened, and he blinked rapidly to keep the tears from spilling over. "I don't know who I am without them."

"That's okay," Minho said gently. "You're allowed to feel lost sometimes."

The words hit Jisung harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how badly he needed someone to tell him that it was okay to be a mess—that it was okay not to have everything figured out.

For the first time, Jisung felt the smallest bit of relief. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make the weight on his chest feel just a little lighter.

And for now, that was enough.

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