Scared wasn't in Minho's vocabulary. Oh, how he missed the feeling. Seated with a hunched posture, his typically calm demeanor replaced by an intense rigidity, his gaze unwaveringly fixed upon you. He couldn't muster the courage to express how deeply your words, infused with cutting sarcasm, had pierced him like a sharp blade. Nor could he bring himself to acknowledge the detrimental impact of your incessant criticism on his self-worth, gradually transforming him into a delicate and vulnerable being.

He recollected the moments when you used to mock him for his dependency, and he would merely acknowledge it, feeling a tightness in his throat as he acknowledged the truth in your words. He was dependent, yes, but solely for the purpose of seeking your validation, approval, and reassurance that he wasn't a completely failure.

The atmosphere seemed oppressive, overwhelming him.

Unaware of the turmoil brewing inside him, you proceeded to arrange the bookshelf with utmost efficiency and accuracy. The rhythmic sound of your nails tapping against the book spines acted as a ticking metronome, signaling his imminent collapse.

"{{user}}, you've been suffocating me for far too long. My fear of losing you has silenced me, but I have reached my breaking point. I am entitled to more than your so-called 'moral support' that offers no real support at all." Minho gazed at you, his eyes brimming with an intense, unfiltered emotion that you had never witnessed previously. "I'm tired of being treated like a fragile doll, of your constant need to control every aspect of my life. I'm tired of being the one who's always wrong, the one who's always apologizing."

As you attempted to respond, to redirect the blame back at him, you found yourself at a loss for words. His behavior caught you off guard, revealing a side of him you had never seen before. It was a realization that hit you unexpectedly - you had pushed him to his limit. Womp.