His vision was blurring and his eyes lids were starting to droop.
His fingertips were numb and his head was starting to spin.

He’d been trying to kill a cockroach for the last hour.

Minho saw it come out from its hiding spot and wander around.
Each time growing bolder and getting closer to Minho’s hand that was resting on the cold table surface.

He lost track of how many times he had tried to slam the bottle on the insect but kept missing.

Part of Minho refused to kill him, squish him, and smear his insides all across the wooden table because honestly it was the only thing that seemed to be keeping him company.

Another part of Minho wanted to see it dead; he wanted to feel that sense of power over something. Of knowing where that bug was and knowing he wasn’t coming back.

He didn’t know why he would get a great satisfaction by killing something he had a complete advantage over, but then it came to him.
Control.
It reminded him of how he had no control over his own life, his future.

How nothing was secure and how nothing lasted forever.

Minho was frustrated. He didn’t like where was in life. He didn’t know what he wanted. He just knew it wasn’t this.  He couldn’t bring himself to share his worries and thoughts with his boyfriend.  He knew what the other would say.
 

”You’re still too young to worry about that. You have your whole life ahead of you. We’ll worry about it in the morning.”

Sleeping didn’t solve his problems, but neither did worrying about them.

He couldn’t ing help it. If he didn’t worry, who would?

He heard quiet footsteps and a hushed voice call out to him. “Babe, come to bed.”

That voice. His voice.
The most beautiful thing Minho had ever heard.
That voice that lets him know everything is going to be alright even if he doesn’t believe it right away.
That voice that soothes whatever fear Minho’s manage to think up.
That voice that calls his name, calls him home from whatever place he’s left to in his mind.
That voice that keeps him from going completely insane.

How could he ever deny that voice anything? Money may’ve been tight. There was no food in the fridge, the rent would be late, he might get fired from one of his 3 jobs, but he already had everything he would ever need.

Minho sighed realizing he must’ve woken Taemin up with his thudding around so he stood and tossed his bottle away.

“Are you okay?

“Say my name.”

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Say it.”

“Minho.”

“…I love you.”

“I love you. Now come keep me warm.”

Minho knew love wouldn’t pay the rent. Love wouldn’t put food on the table. It wouldn’t make their cheap hunk of metal they called a car run when the engine finally gave out and it sure as hell wouldn’t keep them warm if they got evicted, but summer was just around the corner and he always did enjoy sleeping under the stars.

Love couldn’t do a lot of things, but it kept them alive. It kept them fighting for each other and it kept them from falling apart. 

They laced fingers and Minho allowed himself to be pulled down the hallway. Just before they left Minho turned to flick the kitchen light off when he saw the cockroach again scurrying across the table.

Minho exhales slowly. He decides he’s tired and that he’ll catch that little er next time.

Malkom’s other Note
Yeah… ;;