nurse's office | minsung ✓

42

Minho leaned against the wall in the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel, watching the chaos unfold in the living room. Jisung was in the center of it all, wrapped in a mess of hugs, laughter, and teasing from his friends—Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Their voices were loud, overlapping in excitement, and their laughter bounced off the walls of the apartment.

And for once, Jisung looked...happy.

Minho sighed softly, half in relief, half in exhaustion. It had been a long road getting here—endless nights of anxiety, self-doubt, tears, and late-night studying sessions where Minho had to physically drag Jisung to bed. But Jisung made it. Well, almost.

The exam was behind them now, but the waiting was just as agonizing. Minho knew Jisung was silently beating himself up, convinced he could have done more, done better. But seeing him laugh now, surrounded by his friends, made Minho's heart ache in a way he wasn't used to.

Minho wasn't the type to say much, but his actions had always spoken louder. He thought about the little things—the warm milk he brought Jisung when the stress was too much, the times he pulled him out of study spirals for walks, the countless forehead kisses and reminders to just breathe. He thought of how he'd quietly rearranged his entire apartment, making space for Jisung to move in without ever asking for anything in return.

This was Minho's way of showing love—quiet and steady. He didn't need grand gestures; he just wanted Jisung to feel safe and know that no matter how heavy things got, Minho would carry some of that weight for him.

He looked over at the table, where Felix was dramatically cutting into the chocolate cake. Jisung clapped excitedly, looking at Felix like he was some kind of hero.

Minho let out a low chuckle. Jisung was a mess of contradictions—loud and chaotic with his friends, but small and vulnerable when the world felt too big. It was a version of Jisung that not many people saw, but Minho did. He'd seen every side of him, the highs and lows, the triumphs and breakdowns.

And strangely enough, he didn't mind it. He didn't mind the sleepless nights or the moments of frustration when Jisung refused to believe in himself. He didn't mind holding Jisung when the weight of his fears got too heavy.

Because this was Jisung. And Minho loved every bit of him, even if the idiot didn't realize it yet.

"Hyung?" Felix's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Minho blinked, realizing the group had turned toward him, Felix holding out a plate of cake.

"You're part of this, too," Felix said, smiling. "Come sit with us."

Minho rolled his eyes but pushed off the wall and walked over, sitting beside Jisung on the couch. The second he did, Jisung leaned into him without hesitation, resting his head against Minho's shoulder like it was second nature.

Minho fought the urge to smile.

Felix handed him a plate, and Minho took it, poking at the cake absentmindedly with his fork. He wasn't really here for the cake or the noise or the celebration. He was here for Jisung—for the little moments, the quiet reassurances, and the unspoken promises between them.

As the chatter continued around him, Minho glanced down at Jisung, who had closed his eyes briefly, leaning fully against him.

It wasn't much, but it was enough for Minho to know that Jisung trusted him. And that was all Minho needed.

He didn't need words to tell Jisung how proud he was, or how much he cared. It was all there—in the way he sat quietly by his side, the way he'd rearranged his life to make space for Jisung, and the way he would always be here, no matter what.

Because Minho knew what Jisung hadn't quite realized yet: whether he passed or failed, whether the world celebrated him or not—Jisung had already won.

He had people who loved him. He had a place to call home. And most importantly, he had Minho.

And Minho? He wasn't going anywhere.

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