The moon is high in the sky and the boys are fast asleep in their dorm the second time Junhui tells Minghao.

The dorm is pitch black and quiet, save for the soft snoring of the sleeping members and Junhui’s loud thoughts that keep him from making peace with his bed. He does not know what time it is, nor does he wish to know; he just wants to fall asleep. His eyelids are heavy and sore, and his head is throbbing from exhaustion. He turns on his side, facing the wall, away from the boy next to him, and curls into himself. The mattress below him groans with his movement and he pauses for a moment, stiff as a board, letting the silence settle over the room once more, before he relaxes himself.

He waits for sleep to take him, waits in agonizing darkness, and he cannot tell if his eyes are shut. He bites the inside of his cheek, whispers profanities under his breath, and throws his head back onto his pillow. All he can think of is Minghao. Minghao, Minghao, Minghao. It is weeks after his confession, after their shared moment in the rehearsal space, and he cannot get his friend off of his mind. Sleep is something of a fairytale to him, now;  something he dreams of but will never come.

The body laying next to him shifts and brings him from his thoughts. Junhui holds his breath, afraid. Afraid that somehow, Minghao knows. Afraid that he’s disgusted with him. His stomach churns at the possibility that Minghao hates him, or thinks differently of him. Since that night, the younger boy has remained as close to him as he was before; they still joke and play around, and Junhui still lingers with his subtle touches. Minghao still confides in him, still smiles at him with his eyes. Jun’s fear is based on nothing but his own insecurity, he knows, but his abdomen knots just as well. He clenches his jaw, attempting to focus on his grinding teeth.

“Are you awake?” Minghao is the first to break the lull, slurring his words together in his tired state. Although he cannot see anything in the dark, he twists his head toward Junhui, biting down on his lip. He rubs at his eyes, brushing away the crust at the corners, and blinks once, twice for good measure. The older boy considers feigning sleep; he wants to avoid this -- whatever this is.

“I’m awake,” his conscious gets the best of him at last. His voice is coarse and rough on his throat. Minghao huffs, though he is not so much annoyed as he is worried, Junhui can tell. The older boy turns his body to face his friend, feeling around the blankets for his hand. He clears his throat, and Minghao clasps his fingers around the rustling in the covers, wraps them around and inbetween Junhui’s like he is desperate for the touch.

Junhui feels the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders as his skin meets the younger’s, and he realizes just how much he craved this simple affection. Minghao is there.

“I will never leave you,” and Junhui means it with every fiber of his being. The corners of Minghao’s lips curl upward in a smile, and even if the older boy cannot see it, he knows it is there.

“I know.”

Junhui sleeps peacefully that night.