my last pages 》 nomin

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It was strange, really, how fast Jaemin got attached to the boy with the cute eye smile. In the beginning, it wasn't noticeable, at least not to him, but when he found himself awake one morning adjusting the blanket over Jeno, he knew he was done for.

Jaemin despised the word soft. Soft meant pink and happy. Soft meant feelings and cuddles and weak. Jaemin was okay with being seen as many things: emo, quiet, goth, but he would never be okay if he heard someone describe him as soft. But Jeno, Jeno was different. He was soft, but he didn't wear pink, he cried like a baby on a regular occasion. Jeno didn't talk about his feelings or force Jaemin to. Jeno was soft, but he wasn't weak.

Weak was a special term used for Jaemin's knees when Jeno decided stuffed animals weren't enough warmth for one night. It was Jaemin's heart when Jeno pouted, bitten lips on full display for him.

Weak isn't so bad, Jaemin thought to himself as he laid next to a sleepy Jeno, because it means I get to wake up to the softest person on planet earth.

Jaemin brushed his fingers through Jeno's hair, every strand falling effortlessly through his fingertips and back into the mess. Jeno curled into his side further and rubbed his head against Jaemin's hand like a needy kitten.

"Alright, kitten." Jaemin chuckled. If he glanced down, he would see the cherry flush on Jeno's face from the suggestive nickname, but he didn't need too. His shirt was thin, and Jeno's cheeks were burning through the fabric.

"Nana, don't call me that," he grumbled quietly, hooking his hand around Jaemin's neck so he could swing his leg over the teenager's torso.

"Why would I do that, kitten?" Jaemin placed a hand on Jeno's exposed leg and felt the chill that ran up his body.

"Because I-"

"Wait, hush for a second." Jaemin sat up on his bed, effectively pushing Jeno away from him seconds before his mother stomped up the stairs.

"Jaemin, I'm coming in."

Jaemin hummed. His mother usually worked extra shifts at the nursing home, whether it be for money or to avoid him, Jaemin was unaware. He just knew that it hurt never seeing her, it hurt hearing the stories his friends tell about their families and knowing that wasn't realistic.

"How was school today?" She asked calmly, taking a seat in his rolly chair.

Same generic question.

"Mom, its Saturday."

She laughed awkwardly and tapped twice on her Fitbit to see that it was indeed Saturday.

"Ah, sorry, hun."

"Mom this isn't healthy, and you haven't even said hi to Jeno yet. I know you know he's up here."

Her smile slipped, "Jaemin, I'm trying. I want you to know that. And hi Jeno, nice to see you again."

"You too, Miss Na." He mumbled back halfheartedly, turning away from the pair to see if he could get some sleep.

"I know you're trying, Mom. And I know it's hard being a single mother, and I know you love me. I know, I know, I know. If you had said any of that to me like, three days ago, I would have jumped on board and forgave you. But now those feel like excuses, not facts." Jaemin leaned his elbows on his knees and wiped at his stinging eyes.

"I'll do better, Jaemin." She stood up and hesitated at the door. Jaemin thought she was going to speak again, but she shook her head and left with a breathless goodnight.

Mothers should love their children more than themselves was a lie made up by a sorry soul who needed an excuse.

Excuses, excuses.

I'll be better, I'll do better, I won't do it again.

Excuse.

It wasn't me, she did it.

Excuse.

I'm trying, Jaemin.

Excuse.