Chapter:17(chorus)
Mingji didn't realize when it happened—the moment the tightness in his chest loosened, the moment his breathing evened out, the moment the room stopped feeling like it was collapsing in on him. It came quietly, without asking for permission. He was still standing where Lee had left him, hands hanging uselessly at his sides, eyes unfocused, when Lee spoke again. But this time, his voice was different. Light. Almost playful.
"You know," Lee said lazily, "you look really scary when you're angry."
Mingji stiffened and turned slowly. Lee was already walking past him—casual, unbothered, like the room hadn't just been destroyed and Mingji hadn't just broken apart in front of him. Then Lee flopped down on the bed. Just dropped. Arms spread wide, one leg bent, the other hanging slightly off the edge, head sinking into the pillow like he belonged there.
"I'm not leaving," Lee announced, eyes closing in satisfaction. "Decided."
Mingji stared at him. "…What?"
Lee cracked one eye open, a grin creeping onto his face—the mischievous one, the one Mingji knew far too well. "I said," Lee repeated slowly, "I'm not leaving now."
Something dangerous bubbled up in Mingji's chest, but this time it wasn't anger. It was disbelief. "You just agreed," Mingji said quietly. "You said okay."
"I said okay," Lee nodded. "About leaving after the round." He turned his head slightly, cheek pressing deeper into the pillow. "But right now?" A pause. "I'm tired."
Mingji exhaled sharply through his nose. "You're unbelievable."
"Mm," Lee hummed. "You say that like it's new information."
Mingji turned away, rubbing a hand over his face. His pulse was still uneven, emotions tangled and raw, but the edge was gone. The fire inside him had dulled into something warmer, quieter—something that left him exhausted instead of burning. He picked up one of the fallen books, straightened its bent cover without thinking, and placed it back on the desk. Then another. And another. Cleaning up his own mess, as if order might help him breathe.
Behind him, the mattress shifted. Lee rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one hand, watching Mingji with open curiosity. "You calm now?" he asked softly.
Mingji didn't answer right away. "…A little."
Lee smiled—not teasing, not smug. Relieved. "Good," he said. "Because when you're calm, you don't look like you're about to disappear."
That made Mingji pause. He turned back slowly. Lee's expression had softened, eyes warm, voice quieter now, like he was choosing every word carefully. "You always do that," Lee continued. "You carry everything. Like if you don't, it'll fall on someone else."
Mingji's fingers curled slightly. "That's because it does."
Lee didn't argue. Instead, he patted the empty space beside him on the bed. "Then sit."
Mingji hesitated. The bed felt too close, too personal—but eight years had taught him that resisting Lee was pointless when he was like this. Lee raised a brow. "I'm injured, remember? Doctor's orders. Emotional support."
Mingji shot him a look. "You're exploiting your injury."
"Yes," Lee said proudly. "And you're letting me."
Against his better judgment, Mingji walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, posture stiff, hands resting on his knees like he didn't know what to do with them. Lee looked at him for exactly three seconds before leaning forward and resting his forehead gently against Mingji's shoulder. Just there. No force. No pressure.
Mingji froze, breath hitching. Lee sighed softly, like he'd finally found a comfortable position. "You don't have to protect me like that," Lee murmured. "I'm not made of glass."
Mingji swallowed. "You don't know that."
Lee smiled against his shoulder. "I do. Because if I was, you would've shattered a long time ago trying to keep me safe."
Mingji's chest tightened. Slowly—hesitantly—he lifted a hand and rested it against Lee's back. Just once. Just enough. Lee felt it and didn't move. Didn't tease. Didn't push.
Then mingji started cleaning his room that he make mess...lee just watching him silently not even going for help his precious thing that he value most in this world...and ....
"You scared me," Mingji said quietly, eyes lowered.
Lee sat up immediately, all humor gone. "I know," he said. "That's why I'm not moving."
Mingji swallowed and returned to the bed, sitting beside Lee without hesitation this time. The space between them vanished naturally, thighs touching, familiar and grounding. Eight years had erased the need for caution. Lee shifted closer on instinct.
"I don't like it," Mingji admitted, voice low. "When you get hurt. When you act like it's nothing."
Lee reached out and caught Mingji's wrist, thumb pressing gently against his pulse. "I'm here," he said simply. "See? Still breathing."
Mingji closed his eyes, forehead dipping forward until it brushed Lee's shoulder. The contact wasn't delicate—it was heavy, honest. He leaned in like he needed the support. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered.
Lee didn't joke this time. He wrapped his arms around Mingji fully and pulled him close, strong and sure, holding him like he always had—like he always would. Mingji let himself be held, fingers gripping Lee's shirt as the fear slowly bled out of him.
"You won't," Lee said firmly. "Not tonight. Not like this."
Mingji exhaled, shaky but real, resting more of his weight against Lee. His hand slid up, familiar and practiced, curling into Lee's hair at the nape of his neck. Lee sighed softly and pressed a kiss there without thinking, muscle memory guiding him.
"Still scary when you're like this," Lee murmured. "But I prefer you honest."
Mingji huffed quietly. "You're impossible."
"And you love me," Lee replied, smiling against his skin.
Mingji didn't deny it. He stayed there, breathing Lee in, grounding himself in warmth and familiarity. The room was still a mess, the world outside still dangerous—but this, this was solid.
Mingji stayed like that for a long moment, forehead against Lee's shoulder, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was ridiculous how grounding it was—how something so simple could pull him back from the edge faster than logic ever could. Slowly, the tight knot in his chest loosened another notch.
Lee shifted first, careful, as if testing whether Mingji would pull away. When he didn't, Lee leaned back against the headboard and tugged Mingji with him until they were both sitting more comfortably. Their shoulders stayed pressed together. Neither commented on it.
"You know," Lee said after a while, staring at the opposite wall, "if you keep looking at problems like they're personal enemies, you're going to burn yourself out."
Mingji let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh. "You say that like I don't already know."
"I say that," Lee replied, tilting his head slightly so it brushed Mingji's, "because knowing and listening are two very different skills."
Mingji glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Lee wasn't smirking now. He looked tired—dark shadows under his eyes, shoulders slumped in a way Mingji rarely allowed himself to notice. That realization stirred something uncomfortable.
"You're exhausted," Mingji said.
Lee shrugged. "Occupational hazard."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting tonight."
Mingji frowned, then reached out and adjusted the pillow behind Lee's back, firm but gentle. "Then sleep," he said. "At least a little."
Lee blinked at him. "You ordering me around now?"
"Yes," Mingji said flatly. "Consider it repayment for emotional support services."
Lee snorted, but he did slide down slightly, stretching out more properly on the bed. His hand, warm and familiar, found Mingji's wrist again and tugged lightly. "You're not leaving either."
Mingji hesitated. Old habits urged him to stand, to keep watch, to stay alert. But his body felt heavy in a way that didn't signal danger—only fatigue. He exhaled and lay back beside Lee, staring up at the ceiling.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was full. The kind that existed only between people who'd shared too much to need constant words.
"Do you remember," Lee said quietly, "the first time you stayed up all night with me?"
Mingji didn't need to ask which time. "You had a fever," he replied. "Wouldn't stop pretending you were fine."
Lee smiled faintly. "You threatened to carry me to the hospital yourself."
"I was serious."
"I know." Lee turned his head, eyes soft. "You always are."
Mingji swallowed. "You scared me then too."
"I scare you a lot," Lee murmured.
"Yes," Mingji agreed. "But you also… anchor me."
Lee went still at that. After a beat, his fingers tightened slightly around Mingji's wrist. "Funny," he said. "I was thinking the same thing."
They lay there, side by side, breaths slowly syncing. The room felt different now—not calmer, exactly, but steadier, like the walls had stopped closing in. Mingji's gaze drifted to the mess still scattered across the floor. For once, it didn't feel urgent to fix it.
"Tomorrow," Mingji said softly.
Lee hummed. "Tomorrow what?"
"I'll deal with everything tomorrow."
Lee smiled, eyes closing. "That's my favorite version of you."
Mingji turned his head to look at him. "Because I'm less angry?"
"Because you give yourself permission to rest."
Mingji considered that. Then, carefully, he shifted closer until their arms touched fully, no space left to pretend otherwise. Lee didn't move away. If anything, he leaned in.
The night stretched on, quiet and unhurried. Outside, the world remained unpredictable, sharp-edged and demanding. Inside the room, two people breathed in time, holding onto something solid enough to last until morning.