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maybe the question jisung asked most often was, “can you cuddle me?”
and minho - ever the picture of quiet resistance with a soft center - would always roll his eyes, a scoff perched at the edge of his mouth. but the smile would already be tugging its way in, curling up like it knew the routine. “why do you want to be cuddled so bad?” he would ask, half-exasperated, but his arms would already be moving, tucking jisung close like second nature.
because of course jisung wanted to be cuddled.
and of course, minho would let him.
┈┈․° ❁ °․┈┈
it was monday. the worst of weekdays. the kind where exhaustion lingered in the air like humidity, sticking to their skin, making everything feel heavier than it was.
they had just finished classes for the day, walking side by side through the slowly cooling air of early evening. the sun hovered low in the sky, painting the campus in syrupy shades of orange and gold. the sidewalk stretched ahead of them like it always did, but it felt longer today. dragging.
jisung was talking - something about a classmate’s absurd group project idea or the new limited edition matcha latte at the cafe near the library. his words spilled like a lazy stream, half-laughing, half-complaining, hands gesturing every now and then when the story needed extra flair.
minho wasn’t really listening. not properly. the rhythm of jisung’s voice was familiar enough to lull him into a fragile sort of peace, but the content was lost somewhere in the fog clouding his brain. his eyes were open and looking ahead, but they were glazed over, distant. his jaw clenched faintly. his hands were buried in his jeans pockets, shoulders slightly slouched. the strap of his bag bit into one shoulder, and slung over the other was jisung’s backpack - the one littered with pins that made it look more like a scrapbook than a school necessity.
ridiculous pins. minho had called them that, flatly, when jisung had first brought them out in a chaotic pile like a shiny hoard. some of them were absurd: a frog in sunglasses, a “certified napping professional” badge, a neon-pink pixel heart that blinked if you looked at it just right. jisung had pouted - a full six minutes of lip-jutting, wide-eyed, heart-melting stubbornness - until minho gave in.
he still remembered it. the exact way jisung’s face had lit up when minho rolled his eyes and muttered, “fine, one. just the frog.”
of course, one became two. two became ten. eventually, minho had let jisung pin matching ones to his bag, too. the grin jisung had given him was blinding, and minho hadn’t had the heart to stop him - especially not after jisung had kissed his whole face, giddy and delighted, mumbling things like “my softest grump,” between pecks on his cheeks and nose and forehead.
now, minho carried that bag for him without complaint, letting the soft jingle of metal pins follow them down the street like wind chimes.
still, his head hurt.
he could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes, an ache that had been building all day. classes had been brutal. deadlines breathed down his neck like a monster with too many teeth. there were assignments he hadn’t started, notifications he was ignoring, and at least three unread group chats about presentations he couldn’t bring himself to care about.
everything was too much.
and jisung’s voice - for all its warmth - was barely keeping him tethered.
until suddenly, it wasn’t there anymore.
minho blinked, caught mid-step, when he felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. he stopped, eyes refocusing, the fog in his brain pulling back just enough to recognize the presence beside him.
jisung.
he stood half a step behind, his hand curled around minho’s sleeve, fingers slightly tightened like he was anchoring himself - or anchoring minho. his wide, brown eyes looked up at him, blinking slowly, soft concern written into every detail of his face.
“min?” jisung called, voice barely louder than a breath.
minho’s brows softened immediately. he pulled his hand from his pocket and reached for jisung’s without thinking, lacing their fingers together. the warmth of jisung’s palm against his own was a balm, familiar and grounding.
“yeah, baby?” he said gently, his voice dropping into that quiet place he reserved only for jisung - the one no one else ever got to hear.
jisung’s brows tugged together, a small pout forming on his lips as he squeezed minho’s hand. “everything okay?”
minho gave him a small smile, a tired one, but genuine. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to jisung’s temple, letting the gesture speak for him even before his words followed.
“everything’s alright, sungie.”
jisung didn’t answer right away. he tilted his head slightly, searching minho’s eyes like he could see past the words, as if checking for cracks. his voice dropped to a whisper. “you sure?”
minho paused, just for a beat, and then nodded. he didn’t say anything else. didn’t offer more reassurance than he had in his touch, in the thumb brushing over jisung’s knuckles.
and jisung didn’t push.
instead, he gave a small nod, stepping a little closer as their hands swung gently between them. minho tugged him forward lightly.
“c’mon,” he murmured.
and they kept walking.
side by side, the way they always did - but a little slower now. a little closer. jisung’s fingers curled a bit tighter around minho’s, like he knew. like he always knew.
┈┈․° ❁ °․┈┈
jisung fell face-first onto minho’s bed the moment they stepped into the apartment, letting out a dramatic groan that was muffled by the pillows. it sounded exaggerated, theatrical even, but minho knew that tone well - the kind of sigh that came when jisung was pretending to be more tired than he really was... except this time, minho suspected he wasn’t pretending at all.
the bed creaked softly under the sudden weight, the faint scent of minho’s detergent clinging to the sheets. jisung rolled onto his back a moment later, arms flopping to rest over his stomach as he stared at the ceiling like it held answers he didn’t want to admit he was looking for.
minho, meanwhile, barely made it past the threshold before letting the bags drop carelessly to the floor with a dull thud. he didn’t bother sorting them, didn’t even take off his shoes right away. the tension between his eyebrows hadn’t eased since they left campus. without saying a word, he walked straight toward the bathroom, his steps just heavy enough to betray how tired he really was.
jisung listened to the soft sound of water running, letting it fill the silence in the bedroom as he blinked up at the ceiling. his fingers traced little aimless patterns over his stomach, occasionally pressing into the fabric of minho’s comforter as if grounding himself there.
it smelled like minho - clean linen and something warm beneath it, like the ghost of his cologne - and that, more than anything else, helped him breathe a little easier.
when minho came back into the room, his bangs were damp, stuck slightly to his forehead, and he was rubbing at his temple with two fingers in slow, careful circles. his face was paler than usual, and jisung’s eyes followed him silently as he walked toward the wardrobe and opened it. there was something off about the way he leaned in - too slow, too deliberate, like just staying upright was costing him effort.
"you want to change your clothes, sungie?" minho asked, his voice softer now, quieter than usual. it was a version of his voice that jisung heard only when minho was low on energy, running on autopilot. not irritated - just done.
jisung sat up, folding his legs beneath him on the bed. he didn’t answer the question at first. he was still watching minho’s back.
“you okay?” he asked again, voice laced with concern that was no longer easy to mask. there was a frown pulling at his lips now, small but persistent.
minho turned briefly, gave him a smile - a short one, thin at the edges.
“i’m fine, babe.”
he turned back to the wardrobe before jisung could say anything else, fingers skimming over a few folded shirts until he found the one jisung always reached for: the cartoon ships, slightly faded from too many washes, but still soft and worn in that way that made it feel like home.
“t-shirt and... sweatpants or shorts?”
“shorts,” jisung answered.
minho nodded faintly, humming under his breath, and pulled out a pair of gray shorts along with the shirt. he walked over to the bed and set them down gently beside jisung, his fingers brushing softly through jisung’s hair in passing.
“here you go, darling,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
he turned back to the wardrobe again to grab something for himself - a plain white t-shirt and black joggers. the two of them changed in the quiet rhythm of routine, the air heavy but not uncomfortable. after they changed, minho gathered their discarded clothes and placed them neatly over the back of his chair, ever tidy even in exhaustion.
then he made his way to the kitchen. the floor creaked faintly under his steps, and when he opened the drawer by the sink, the soft clatter of pill bottles echoed too loud in the otherwise quiet apartment. his temples pulsed steadily, a low throb that made him wince when he bent down to grab a glass. he popped the pill into his mouth, chased it with water, and leaned against the counter with a sigh.
he didn’t hear jisung approach until a small voice called from the doorframe.
“min.”
minho turned, startled for only a second, before his eyes softened.
jisung was standing there in his clothes - looking impossibly small and soft in the oversized t-shirt and shorts, bare feet padding against the cold floor. his hair was a little messy, sticking up in the back from where he’d flopped onto the bed earlier, and his face was unreadable in a way that made minho’s chest ache.
“you need anything, sungie?” minho asked, trying for normalcy as he placed his empty glass back on the counter. he closed the drawer gently.
“you’re not feeling well,” jisung said quietly, stepping into the kitchen.
minho didn’t deny it right away.
jisung came to stand beside him, close enough that minho could feel his warmth. his hands reached up slowly, cupping minho’s face with such gentle care that minho’s breath caught in his throat. he leaned into the touch instinctively, eyes slipping shut for a moment.
“why didn’t you tell me?” jisung whispered.
minho’s hands found their way to jisung’s waist, fingers curling around the soft fabric of the shirt.
“i’m okay,” he said softly, but it didn’t carry the same weight anymore.
jisung frowned, just slightly, and leaned up to press a light kiss to minho’s nose.
“c’mon,” he whispered, lacing their fingers together.
he tugged gently.
and minho followed - wordlessly, without resistance. like he always did when it came to jisung.
“c’mon, we’re gonna lay down,” jisung said, his voice gentle, like he didn’t want to jostle the quiet between them too much. his fingers were still laced with minho’s, warm and careful, like he was guiding something fragile.
minho didn’t argue. he didn’t hesitate, either. he just let himself be led, following jisung back into the bedroom with the weight of the day pressing down on his shoulders and the soft tug of jisung’s hand grounding him against it. the sheets were slightly rumpled from earlier, and the room was filled with late-afternoon light - the kind that filtered golden through the curtains and painted everything in warm, sleepy hues.
he sank onto the bed with a sigh the second they reached it, limbs too heavy to hold up anymore. the moment his head hit the pillows, another, deeper breath left his chest like his body had been waiting for permission to rest.
“but you wanted to watch a movie,” minho murmured, cracking one eye open to look at jisung. the words were quiet, but the concern was there. he remembered the way jisung had talked about it during lunch, eyes bright as he listed every reason minho had to watch it with him. he’d been excited, had even saved the movie on the tv at minho’s place so it would be ready the moment they got home.
but jisung was already lying beside him now, close enough that their knees touched beneath the sheets. he shook his head slowly.
“i don’t wanna watch the movie anymore,” he said, voice soft and small like he didn’t want to disturb the moment.
minho turned onto his side, propping himself up slightly on one elbow so he could see jisung’s face properly. his eyes were still warm, still full of quiet curiosity, but he didn’t speak. he just looked, letting the silence fill in all the things he didn’t know how to ask.
and jisung studied him right back. he hadn’t realized how tired minho really looked until now. the puffiness beneath his eyes, the way his brows hadn’t fully relaxed, the faint pull at the corners of his lips like he was still holding himself together. jisung’s heart squeezed gently in his chest. minho always carried everything so quietly. so carefully. like he didn’t want to burden anyone.
jisung’s lips parted slightly, and he reached forward to brush minho’s bangs away from his forehead with slow, thoughtful fingers. the gesture made minho’s eyes flutter shut, just for a second.
“do you want to cuddle?” jisung asked, voice just above a whisper.
there was a brief pause - just a breath - before minho let out a quiet chuckle.
“of course you want to cuddle, you cuddlebug,” he said, teasing lightly as he reached toward jisung, arms already halfway around him.
but jisung stopped him with a hand against his chest.
“no.”
minho blinked, confused, his arms hovering awkwardly mid-air. “what?”
jisung shifted closer, eyes soft but steady. “i am going to cuddle you,” he said with such quiet certainty that minho didn’t even know how to respond at first.
he stared at jisung, blinking rapidly - one, two, three times - like his brain was rebooting. jisung smiled a little. it was a familiar habit of minho’s, the fast blinking when he didn’t know what to say. jisung had grown to love it.
“cuddle... me?” minho echoed, and jisung nodded.
“c’mere.”
there was no room for argument in jisung’s voice - not that minho wanted to argue. he let himself be pulled in, let jisung’s arms wrap carefully around his waist as he was drawn against the warmth of jisung’s chest. he let his cheek rest in the crook of jisung’s neck, right where skin met the collar of the cartoon-ship shirt, where jisung was soft and safe and there.
and immediately–immediately–his eyes fell shut. the sigh that left him this time was deeper, like it was pulled from the very center of his chest.
jisung smiled, chin resting gently atop minho’s head. his own arms wrapped tighter, one around minho’s back and the other threading into his hair, fingers curling protectively near the base of his skull. he held him like that - as if he were something precious. and he was.
“so comfy,” minho mumbled against jisung’s shoulder, the words muffled and warm and sleepy.
jisung shifted slightly to kiss the crown of minho’s head, brushing soft bangs aside with his fingers. “yeah?” he whispered.
a hum vibrated against his skin. “yeah,” came minho’s reply, quieter this time, melting deeper into the embrace.
jisung exhaled softly, a tiny laugh that didn’t quite make it past his smile. minho’s arms were still around his waist, but looser now. not because he didn’t want to hold jisung anymore - but because he was letting go of all the tension, all the weight, finally giving in to the comfort he never asked for out loud.
it took less than five minutes.
five minutes before minho’s breathing evened out, slow and quiet. before his muscles fully relaxed, his body going soft and warm and present in jisung’s arms. he wasn’t thinking anymore. he wasn’t carrying anything. he was just here, curled up where he was meant to be.
minho was asleep.
jisung didn’t move. he didn’t speak. he just watched - watched the rise and fall of minho’s back against his own chest, listened to the barely-there breaths, the softness that only sleep brought.
and he smiled.
because minho didn’t do naps. he had said it himself– “naps are a waste of time.” something about breaking the rhythm of the day or falling asleep only to feel groggy after. he was always stubborn about it, brushing jisung off when he suggested it, saying he’d rest later, after the work, after the stress, after everything else.
but look at him now.
curled up in jisung’s arms, his body molding into every soft inch of space jisung gave him. the cartoon-ship t-shirt bunched slightly at his side, his legs tangled loosely with jisung’s under the blankets, lips parted just enough to reveal the edge of his front teeth. completely unguarded.
and home.
because home wasn’t a place anymore. not for minho. it was a person now.
and that person - was jisung.
┈┈․° ❁ °․┈┈
it had been a few hours, or maybe just shy of it. the room had settled into a quiet stillness, broken only by the soft sounds of minho’s breathing and the occasional shift of sheets as jisung adjusted, careful not to wake him.
jisung hadn’t slept.
he hadn’t even tried. not because he couldn’t - just because he hadn’t wanted to.
instead, he’d stayed exactly where he was, arms tucked around minho’s frame, with minho’s face still pressed into the crook of his neck. there was nowhere else in the world jisung would rather be than right here, in the soft hush of the bedroom, with minho asleep in his arms like he had finally let himself rest.
jisung’s fingers had moved slowly through minho’s hair the whole time - gentle, soothing strokes from the crown to the nape, sometimes circling lightly at his scalp. he massaged just behind minho’s ears, where the tension always lived, and felt it gradually melt away. every now and then, he leaned down and pressed the softest kisses into minho’s hair, barely-there brushes of affection that didn’t ask for anything in return.
he didn’t need anything back. this - this quiet closeness, this slow and intentional kind of love - this was enough.
and then, slowly, minho began to stir.
at first, it was just a twitch - a shift of his leg against jisung’s, the faintest furrow between his brows. then a low breath escaped him, deeper than the ones before, followed by a fluttering of lashes against jisung’s skin as he blinked himself back into waking.
jisung’s smile was immediate, instinctual. his hand paused in minho’s hair only for a second before continuing, this time slower, more intentional. he shifted just slightly - not enough to disrupt the peaceful cocoon of blankets and limbs they’d built - but just enough that he could lean in and kiss the slope of minho’s temple.
then another kiss. a little lower, this time at his cheekbone. another one near his jaw, barely a brush of his lips.
minho let out a groan.
it was meant to sound annoyed. it was meant to be dramatic, like “ugh, you woke me up,” but it failed immediately. it was too soft, too drawn-out, too warm. jisung could hear the sleep still laced in it, could feel the tiny smile tugging at the corners of minho’s mouth even though his eyes were still closed.
“you’re so annoying,” minho mumbled into jisung’s throat, his voice gravelly with sleep, but his arms only pulled jisung tighter around him.
“i’m babying you,” jisung whispered back with a smile, pressing another kiss to minho’s forehead, then to his temple, then his cheek again. “you love it.”
minho groaned again, muffled into jisung’s collar, but this time it was unmistakably fond. “stop kissing me.”
“you don’t want me to stop kissing you,” jisung replied, grinning. he kissed minho’s nose just to prove a point. then another one just beside his mouth.
minho finally cracked open one eye to look at him. “you’re insufferable.”
“you’re clingy,” jisung countered, tapping minho’s back gently with his fingertips. “you fell asleep in my arms.”
“you wrapped your entire body around me like an octopus,” minho said, voice still hoarse, but the spark in his eye was brighter now.
“you needed it.”
minho didn’t respond right away. he just exhaled slowly and let his head fall back against jisung’s shoulder, eyes slipping closed again as his hand came to rest against jisung’s chest, over his heart.
“yeah,” he admitted quietly. “i did.”
the honesty in his voice made jisung’s chest ache - in the best way. like his heart was swelling with warmth and softness and the kind of tenderness that didn’t need to be spoken aloud to be understood.
“you didn’t sleep at all?” minho asked after a pause, tilting his head to look up at him.
jisung shook his head, brushing his fingers through minho’s hair again. “wasn’t tired.”
“you should’ve rested.”
“i wanted to hold you.”
minho didn’t have anything to say to that. his brows twitched like he was trying not to smile, but his body gave him away. he melted back into jisung’s chest, this time with a quiet sound that could only be described as content. his legs hooked more firmly around jisung’s under the blanket, anchoring them together. he was still half-asleep, but now fully present in the warmth of jisung’s arms.
“you’re not allowed to be this soft,” minho mumbled against jisung’s skin. “it’s criminal.”
“says the man who just napped for almost three hours in my arms,” jisung teased, pressing another kiss to his temple.
minho sighed, not even trying to argue anymore. “i didn’t mean to.”
“i know,” jisung said. “that’s why it made me happy.”
another beat of silence, and then minho reached up, fingers curling into the collar of jisung’s shirt. he held it loosely, like it grounded him.
“can we stay like this?” minho asked, voice quieter now. not tired anymore - just soft.
jisung didn’t hesitate. “as long as you want.”
minho hummed, and jisung felt the sound vibrate against his chest, where minho’s head rested. his hair was a little messy now, sticking up in different directions, and his skin held the faint creases of the pillow. he looked like every version of love jisung had ever dreamed of - messy and real and vulnerable, and right here in his arms.
he kissed minho’s head again.
minho didn’t groan this time.
he just smiled.
┈┈․° ❁ °․┈┈
jisung wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that - limbs tangled under the soft blanket, breaths falling in sync, minho’s body nestled securely against his. the late afternoon had begun to darken around them, casting a sleepy orange glow through the curtains, and jisung had never felt time move so gently before.
he had his arms looped around minho’s middle, his cheek resting against the top of his boyfriend’s head, and one hand still absently combing through minho’s hair - the strands soft and familiar between his fingers.
minho hadn’t moved much since waking up. he’d just melted back into jisung’s embrace like he belonged there. which he did.
after a little while, jisung tilted his head to press his lips to minho’s temple again - the motion soft, slow, habitual. his voice was quieter when he spoke next, like he didn’t want to disturb the stillness around them.
“is your head still hurting?” he asked gently, his breath warm against minho’s hair.
minho made a small sound - something between a hum and a sigh. “a little,” he mumbled, the words almost lost against jisung’s chest. “not as bad. you helped.”
jisung smiled, rubbing slow, comforting circles into minho’s back with his palm. “good. i was gonna kiss it better if it didn’t go away.”
minho snorted softly, turning his face just enough to nuzzle closer into jisung’s neck. “that’s not how medicine works.”
“love is medicine,” jisung said, mock serious.
“gross.”
“shut up, you love it.”
minho didn’t reply to that. but the way his fingers curled into the hem of jisung’s t-shirt - gentle but sure - was all the answer jisung needed.
the room was quiet again after that. just the sound of the city outside, muffled and distant. somewhere down the street, a car honked half-heartedly. the bed creaked a little when minho shifted, stretching out just enough to press even closer into jisung’s side, as if trying to crawl inside his ribcage and stay there.
and then, after a few more minutes of silence, minho spoke again - his voice low, lazy, and laced with the kind of honesty that only came in moments like this.
“i think i know why you want to be cuddled so bad every time.”
jisung’s brows lifted slightly, lips quirking. “yeah?” he asked, amused. “why’s that?”
he brought a hand up and gently cupped minho’s jaw, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. he guided minho’s face upward slightly, just enough to meet his eyes - and minho let him, blinking slowly, drowsily. their gazes locked, and for a moment the world softened.
“because,” minho said, voice barely above a whisper, “it feels like home.”
jisung’s breath caught.
it wasn’t dramatic - it wasn’t like the kind of sharp inhale you hear in movies. it was small, almost invisible. but it changed everything. something about the way minho had said it - so quiet, so simple, so real - made the earth tilt beneath him. just a little.
he looked at minho’s face. really looked. at the sleepy slant to his eyes. the way his lashes fluttered against the apples of his cheeks. the faint pink of his lips. the vulnerability in his expression, that rare and beautiful softness that he only ever showed jisung.
jisung didn’t speak right away. he couldn’t. there was too much warmth in his chest, spreading out like sunlight, and he didn’t trust his voice to hold steady.
so instead, he kissed minho.
it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t demanding. it was the kind of kiss that said, thank you for loving me the way you do. it was slow, tender, and full of everything jisung couldn’t say in that moment. minho leaned into it, his hand coming up to rest lightly on jisung’s wrist, anchoring them both.
when they pulled apart, jisung rested their foreheads together, eyes still half-closed.
“home, huh?” he whispered, his voice a little wobbly despite his best effort.
minho nodded faintly. “yeah.”
“you... you feel like home too,” jisung whispered. his words trembled at the edges, and he didn’t care if minho noticed. “i didn’t know what that felt like until you.”
minho exhaled, something deep and full of feeling. he pressed a kiss to jisung’s jaw, then to the corner of his mouth, then again - smaller, softer - just beneath his eye, where a tear might’ve fallen if it had the chance.
jisung’s hand found minho’s again, threading their fingers together and squeezing gently.
they stayed like that - forehead to forehead, hand in hand, breathing the same air and saying everything without saying anything at all.
and for the first time in a long, long time, minho didn’t feel like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. he didn’t feel like he was balancing deadlines and pressure and expectations. he just felt warm. safe. held.
and jisung - who had always thought of cuddling as a way to pull himself back together when the world was too loud - realized something else in that moment.
it wasn’t just about feeling safe.
it was about offering safety. offering love. offering himself, wholly, to the one person who made him feel like he’d always been enough.
and now, as they lay wrapped around each other in the quiet of a fading afternoon, both of them knew:
this was what home was supposed to feel like.