Lean on Me

Her supple, pink lips were pursed into a taut line and her mind clicked, knowing exactly who was at the door without even having to see for herself. The soft snap of the door hinges ensued and his shuffling echoed from the front family room to the kitchen, where she was situated, unmoving; she had no intention to run to him -- he wouldn't want that. There was silence and the only thing that filled it was his audible breathing, dark and bated; it was heavy with burden and she nearly crumbled from the overwhelming pity at the sight of him. His muscular build lingered somberly at the doorway, his onyx eyes boring straight through her skull as she returned the gaze of solemnity. "Jiho."

The warmth of the mug in her hands seemed to have diminished and the thickness of the air made everything seem hostile; she was almost scared. Apprehension pitted itself into her stomach as she watched her blonde-haired lover trudge lifelessly to the counter she was leaning against, examining him with extreme meticulousness as he gripped the edges of the granite surface with his already snowy white knuckles. His chest heaved deeply and she could already detect the b of tears outlining his narrowed eyes. His throat rumbled with an odd sound; she couldn't tell if he was trying to choke back his stifled sobs, or if he just had a wad of phlegm caught there. The couple rested side by side, unmoving, choosing to simply let the timid quietness envelope their stiff entities into an abyss of confusion and bewilderment.

His eyes lifted and he stared ahead, refusing to look her in the eye. His lips quivered with trepidation as he spoke, his voice hoarse with fatigued sorrow and stressed exhaustion. "Say something, please," he pleaded her, "Just anything.. let me hear your voice." 

She was still for a second before her fingers uncurled themselves from her ceramic mug, moving swiftly to grab his arm. Jiho tensed as he felt the warmth of her fingertips pad at his bare bicep, his knees almost buckling together at the rush of sensations riveting through his tall frame. "Oh, Jiho," she cooed, massaging the rigid knots laying beneath the flesh of his arm. She adjusted her position, moving to hug him from behind with her arms winding comfortably around his waist; her chin rested just atop his brittle shoulders, warm breath and all circling down the stairwell of his trembling spine. Her palms laid flat against the covered plates of his abdomen, flushing her body as close as she could to his own. "You know I can't promise that everything will be okay," she began softly, kissing his earlobe, "but you know that no matter what, you'll always have me to come home to, alright?"

He turned promptly, pulling her into a heart-constricting hug. Yanking her into his forcibly, Jiho immediately found his hands at their repective place around her waist, encirling her own arms around his neck; he nuzzled his nose affectionately into the crook of her neck before his shaky breaths gave him away. The warmth of his tears seeped instantly through the fabric of her sheer cardigan, dampening her shoulder with his woeful tears. 

They stayed there like that, with the taller blonde weeping uncontrollably into his lover's shoulders, her body flush against his; they swayed back and forth, lulling Jiho to fading muffles and sniffles. Her pliant strands of hair tickled at his nostrils as he buried himself in the scent of tropical coconuts and tart mango, a subconscious smile gracing his luscious lips. He couldn't control his own words; they were falling and dropping off the tip of his tongue and plummeting themselves into enraged sentences, filling the empty void in his heart with even greater grief and melancholy.

"It's as if it wasn't bad enough that I let my words slip with the whole Thailand incident; I mean, I already branded Block B as an immature group with no sense of professionalism because of my impulsiveness and recklessness; and then they just had to cut one of our member's contract and then they --! Mr. Lee, he -- he just disappeared! With.. with o-over sixty-grand! And-and-and I just... baby, all I wanted to do was become famous to share my music with others, to get my name known.. I never.. never asked for this, okay? I just.. I just want to be done." His words trailed into a flurry of sloppy sobs, and Jiho began to cry even harder into her shoulder, his clutch growing substantially strong against the small of her back.

Her slender fingers combed soothingly through the locks of his wispy golden hair, eye tender as she pulled him away, hands moving to cup his reddened, tear-stained cheeks. A reassuring smile lifted her stoic features as she kissed his forehead silently, the smile gracing her picturesque visage and bringing instantaneous peace of mind to the flustered idol. She away his tears with the pad of her thumb, choosing not to speak. She didn't have to, she didn't have the words anyways.

As just another civilian in the heart of Seoul, how could she possibly understand the contemptuous pain her boyfriend had to face? She couldn't bring him comfort with words; she couldn't promise that everything would be okay; she couldn't just lie and tell him that it'll all just blow over. For all they know, this situation could blow completely out of proportion and Jiho would be out of work, forcing the couple to live solely on her barista's salary-pay. She didn't know what to say, so she simply kissed him, smiling at him like there was nothing to worry about.

"I'm here," she whispered, trailing her finger down the side of his nose. "You can always lean on me, you know that right, Jiho?"

She noticed the way his shoulders slumped, almost with relief, and smiled gingerly, pulling herself in for another embrace, burying her face into the contents of his warm chest. The broadness of his torso rumbled as he chuckled silently into her hair, his lips pressed against the crown of her head, as if thanking her for the consolation. Jiho had never felt so at home; not when he was kicked out by his parents for pursuing the musical career; not when he was dorming with the boys; not when he was rapping underground with his most admired artists -- none of it could compare to when he was here, home, with her entangled within the mass of his arms.

"I must've done something great in my past life to deserve you," he mumbled gently.

She chortled in a girlish manner, with the back of her hand shielding her precious smile; she pulled away reluctantly with a shake of her head. "You didn't have to do anything," she murmured back, pushing away Jiho's straying fringe. "Now c'mon. I prepared some tea for you.. you know, to calm your nerves."

And in that instant, Jiho's troubles and burdens lifted from his shoulders and the only thing playing in his mind - rather than the issues concerning Block B and Stardom - was her smile and the warmth that radiated from it.

Yeah, Jiho's definitely never felt more at home than like this..