nurse's office | minsung ✓

39

Jisung thought the hardest part was over—the endless studying, the anxiety-ridden exam, the mental breakdowns in Minho's arms. But no one told him about the slow, excruciating crawl toward results day. It was like being suspended in limbo, not knowing whether he'd fall or fly. The exam was behind him, but the weight on his chest remained, heavy and relentless.

He spent most of his day curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through his phone, trying to distract himself. News, memes, random YouTube videos—it didn't matter. Every thought, every second of silence dragged him back to What if I failed?

Minho, sitting across from him at the dining table with a cup of coffee, eyed him carefully. His own patience was thinning, watching Jisung unravel. They hadn't really talked much since the exam—Jisung had closed himself off, lost in the whirlpool of post-exam anxiety, and Minho didn't push. Not yet, at least.

By mid-afternoon, Jisung gave up entirely. With a groan, he slumped over the armrest of the couch, face buried in a throw pillow. Minho watched as his boyfriend (even if not officially labeled) lay there, utterly defeated, and decided enough was enough.

"That's it," Minho announced, standing abruptly.

Jisung peeked out from behind the pillow. "What now?"

"We're going out," Minho declared as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Jisung groaned louder, rolling further into the couch cushions. "I don't wanna."

Minho crossed his arms and gave him the look. "I'm not asking."

"Minho," Jisung whined, dragging out the syllables. "I can't. What if the results come out early, and I miss them?"

Minho rolled his eyes. "They won't. And even if they do, your phone is glued to your hand. Now, come on. Change your clothes. We're leaving in fifteen minutes."

Jisung sat up slowly, sulking like a child who had just been told to go to school. "Why are you like this?"

Minho only smirked. "Because I care."

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting by the window of a quiet café. Jisung poked at his strawberry shortcake with his fork, more out of habit than hunger. Minho sat across from him, sipping a latte, gaze flickering between his drink and Jisung's pouty face. 

"This isn't helping," Jisung muttered, poking the cake again.

"It's not supposed to," Minho replied. "You just need a break from spiraling."

Jisung gave him a look that said, Really?

Minho set his cup down. "Look, I get it. Waiting sucks. But worrying about something you can't change won't make the results come any faster."

Jisung slumped further into his chair, folding his arms. "Easy for you to say. You don't have your entire future riding on one fucking stupid exam."

Minho's eyes softened. "You think I don't get it?"

Jisung huffed. "No offense, but no. You're Minho. You're perfect."

Minho snorted. "Yeah, right." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Listen. Even if things don't go the way you want—"

"They won't."

"—even if they don't," Minho repeated, "we'll figure it out. Together."

The words hit Jisung square in the chest, and for the first time in days, he felt a tiny crack in the suffocating wall of anxiety around him.

Jisung gave a small, tired smile. "You're annoyingly good at this."

"I know." Minho's grin was smug, but his gaze was warm.

They spent the rest of the day wandering around Seoul—window shopping, sharing snacks, even sitting by the river for a while. It wasn't perfect, and Jisung's nerves still buzzed beneath the surface, but with Minho beside him, the world felt a little less daunting.

For now, that was enough.

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