Always By Your Side || MinChan Romance

37.

Thirty Seven

Minho curled up in his nest that night, the soft blankets usually a comfort now felt cold and empty. Each time he closed his eyes, he felt a sharp ache—his omega whispering that his alpha's hesitation was a form of rejection, even if he knew it wasn't quite that simple. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he lay alone, the longing for Chan's warmth settling heavily in his chest.

The next morning, neither spoke much. Chan looked at Minho as though he wanted to say something, his expression softened by guilt, but he stayed silent. Days passed with the same uneasy distance growing between them, filling their once cozy home with a strained quiet. It saddened Minho deeply, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap without risking another painful reminder of Chan's reluctance.

He threw himself into preparing for the baby, focusing on tasks like folding tiny clothes and reorganizing the nursery. Yet, every moment spent alone in silence seemed to deepen the ache in his heart. He was beginning to wonder if this was something they could truly resolve, or if they'd both continue walking on opposite sides of an invisible line drawn between them.

After days of painful silence, Minho finally let the words spill out, his voice soft and worn. "It's okay if you aren't ready, Chan," he said, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. "I shouldn't have demanded something from you like that... and I apologize." His tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable hint of defeat in his eyes.

Chan looked over, conflicted, searching Minho's face. There was a pang of guilt, mingled with confusion and something deeper he couldn't yet name. He reached out, taking Minho's hand gently.

"Min... it's not that I don't want to. I just... I'm still processing everything," Chan admitted, his thumb rubbing over Minho's knuckles. "The divorce, the baby, us... it's all a lot to take in. But I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing you away. I just—" he paused, searching for the right words. "I want to get it right, for us. For you. Maybe I'm just overthinking things...."

Minho nodded, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. "I know, Chan. I understand, really, but..." His voice wavered. "It's hard to be so close and still feel like there's a wall between us."

Chan squeezed his hand, guilt gnawing at him. "You mean so much to me, Min. And this... it's not the end of that conversation. I just need a little more time."

The smile Minho was sad and thin, not reaching his eyes. "You know, I have loved you for the better part of seven years," Minho confessed softly. "I never imagined that I would ever get a chance to be at your side in this way. Especially when you got married to Johan. And I forced myself to be content with that. I decided that being your friend would have to be enough. And then when you were getting divorced all I could think about was how much you were hurting and how much I longed to ease your pain. And all the love I felt for you came rushing back. And then a miracle happened..."

He brushed a hand over his large belly, tears falling, "I was....so afraid but also so happy to have a piece of you. So much so that against my better judgment and even the counsel of my best friend, I gave you my all Chan. And I thought, little by little, you were doing the same. But I guess...I will have to wait some more. But please, if you ever decide that you can't give me all of you, let me know. I deserve that much, don't I?"

Chan's breath hitched as Minho's words washed over him, each one revealing years of unspoken love and sacrifice. Minho's quiet confession was like a delicate, painful melody, and the depth of it struck him deeply. Seeing Minho, visibly shaken yet steady, his hand resting tenderly over their child, made Chan feel the weight of his own reluctance more sharply than ever before.

"Minho..." Chan's voice was thick with emotion, but he struggled to find words that could possibly express what he was feeling.

Minho looked down, wiping away a tear that had escaped. "I don't regret a thing, Chan," he whispered, his gaze never leaving Chan's. "But I deserve honesty. I deserve... security, I guess. And I know I've been patient, but now that we're here, with our son on the way... I don't know how to keep ignoring the emptiness I feel when I realize you're holding back."

Chan reached out, brushing his fingers along Minho's jaw, his heart aching at the vulnerability he saw there. "I never meant for you to feel that way, Min," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing the dampness on Minho's cheek. "You deserve everything, and I... I'm so sorry if I've made you doubt that."

He paused, swallowing hard. "I've been scared. Scared of rushing things, scared of hurting you, scared of... failing again. But I love you, Minho. I know that much. And I know you've given me all of yourself. And that's... that's why it's been hard for me to take this next step. I'm afraid I don't deserve you."

Minho looked at him with a mixture of sadness and hope, a small, tremulous smile gracing his lips. "Chan, love isn't about being perfect or never failing. It's about being there, even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard. So if you love me... don't hold yourself back. I'm ready to keep building a life together if you are."

In that moment, Chan felt something shift within him—a realization that the love Minho had shown him, that quiet strength and dedication, was exactly what he needed to lean into, not hide from. Squeezing Minho's hand, he nodded, a renewed sense of commitment filling him.

"I want this, Min. All of it. You, our son... everything," Chan said quietly, pressing his forehead against Minho's. "I promise, I'll be better about showing it. Because I want you to feel loved, not just in words but in action. And I'll do whatever it takes to make that clear."

***************

Chan sat in his father's study, surrounded by the warm, familiar scent of leather and old books. His dad leaned back in his chair, gazing at him thoughtfully over a steaming cup of tea. The silence was almost comforting, giving Chan the space he needed to gather his thoughts before finally speaking.

"Dad," he started, his voice quiet, "I've been thinking a lot about Minho. About...everything he's done for me, everything he's meant to me." He paused, fiddling with his own cup, then continued. "I love him, more than I've ever loved anyone. But...I'm not sure I know how to show him that in a way that really counts."

His father raised an eyebrow, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And why is that, son?"

Chan hesitated, sighing. "After my divorce...there was just so much pain. I didn't think I'd be able to let myself trust like that again. And yet, here I am, with Minho. It's everything I want, but I keep feeling this...this hesitation. I just don't want to hurt him."

His dad set down his tea with a soft clink, leaning forward with a knowing look. "Love isn't safe, Chan. It's messy, it's vulnerable. But it's also the one thing worth risking everything for, especially when you find someone willing to stand by you through it all." His gaze softened as he continued. "Minho already gave you his heart, his trust, and now, he's about to give you a child. And in my experience, when someone is willing to love you so completely, you have to meet them there, wholeheartedly."

Chan felt his throat tighten, hearing the weight of his father's words settle deep in his chest. "I...I just don't want to fall short," he admitted, voice raw.

"Then don't," his dad replied gently but firmly. "You may think you're protecting him by holding back, but what he really needs is to know that he has all of you. No halfway, no doubt." He placed a comforting hand on Chan's shoulder, a warmth passing through the gesture. "If you want him in your life, if you want to build a family with him, then you can't keep holding back. Let him know where he stands."

Chan sat back, his father's words swirling in his mind. The clarity he'd been seeking began to solidify, a steady resolve grounding him. He wasn't just afraid of failing; he was afraid of fully opening himself up. But now, he could see that the real risk was in doing nothing at all.