Taemin wished he had been able to get over it. He wished he could get up from his bed the next morning and pretend that nothing had happened. But his body felt heavy, his mind in a haze as if he was hungover, his eyes dry from all the crying.

He tried to ignore the reason why he had ended up like that. He wasn’t proud. In fact, he felt so ashamed he hoped he’d never stumble upon Minho in the hallway in the near future. His neighbor would probably make fun of him, and he couldn’t handle that.

His phone buzzed all day long, but he didn’t even look at it. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to know. It couldn’t be better than him staying in bed and looking at the ceiling, trying to avoid that one thought that kept on coming back—he wasn’t ready to date someone again.

He hated himself for thinking he was ready. For Jonghyun to tell him so. For Jinki to cheer him up. They had no idea how he felt. How hard it could be. They lived in their small bubble and thought that if they could find happiness, then he could too. He had been a fool for believing them.

After his phone buzzed one more time, he finally decided to check it out, just in case. What he had feared was happening—he had gotten several messages from Minho. He clicked on the notification with shaky fingers, afraid of what his neighbor would say—it was probably a few texts saying that they should end things here.

Hey

I liked spending time with you yesterday 

I’m sorry for whatever happened

Can we talk?

Taemin had to take a few deep breaths to allow himself to realize Minho wasn’t making fun of him. Instead, it seemed he wanted to get over his panic attack—or whatever it had been.

He stared at the screen for some time, his mind coming up blank as to what he should reply. Now that he was allowed to, there were so many things he wanted to say, but words would just not put themselves in the right order. He typed several sentences that he erased right after, until he was somewhat satisfied.

Don’t apologize, it wasn’t your fault

He let his phone fall from his hands and land on his chest. He had no idea what else to say, and he hoped Minho would understand. His phone buzzed once again and this time, it was with anticipation that he opened the notification.

Have you eaten today?

Taemin couldn’t stop the faint smile that formed at the corner of his lips, and he quickly typed an answer.

Not yet

He focused on the silence around him, and he was almost sure he could have heard Minho’s phone buzzing on the other side of their shared wall. The idea that Minho was physically so close to him made his breathing short as a weird thrill grew inside of him.

Come to my place when you’re ready, I’ll order something

Taemin didn’t need to be asked twice. He didn’t know where that strength suddenly came from, but he got up from the bed and put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He quickly made a detour through the bathroom to clean himself up and put some kibble in Luna’s bowl before rushing out of his apartment.

He knocked on Minho’s door three times and by the time he pulled his hand away, Minho was opening it. As he saw his face, what happened the day before flashed back before his eyes and suddenly, his shame was back.

“Hey, come in,” Minho whispered and laid a hand on his shoulder. 

Still looking at the floor, Taemin followed him inside and sat on the couch next to him. He had no idea what do to, what to say, how to act. He waited for Minho to say something, but he too stayed silent.

Taemin was somehow relieved when Minho reached his arm across his shoulders, and he warily laid his head on his neighbor’s shoulder, taking a deep breath in.

Minho wasn’t mad.

He closed his eyes for a moment—he was tired from his sleepless night. He could feel Minho fumble with something with his free hand but he didn’t bother looking.

“What do you want to eat?” Minho said in a breath as he ran a hand through Taemin’s hair. Taemin smiled at the gesture. He felt safe here.

“Whatever,” he whispered back.

“Okay.”

Minho tapped a few more times on the screen then put his phone away, laying his head over Taemin’s.

It felt so natural to breathe at the same rhythm while Minho was drawing circles on his shoulder, his body heat radiating. He didn’t want to stop himself when his left hand moved from h