“I’m not gonna cry.”

That was the first thing he said as you zipped up your suitcase.

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say you were.”

Changbin stood in the doorway of your bedroom, arms folded, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. His mouth was pressed in a line that tried — tried — not to wobble.

“You’re only gonna be gone for three days,” he muttered. “That’s nothing.”

You nodded. “Exactly. You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

But he didn’t answer.

Didn’t move, either.

You crossed the room slowly, resting your hands against his chest. His heart was beating faster than normal. Thudding like a quiet little panic.

“Binnie,” you said gently, “what’s really going on?”

He blinked fast.

Then, finally: “…I don’t sleep when you’re not here.”

You froze.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “I try. I really do. But the bed’s too cold. The air feels weird. I keep reaching out and you’re not there, and my brain just… spirals. I know you’re okay, I know you’re coming back, but it feels like something’s wrong, and I can’t stop thinking about it, and then I don’t sleep, and I get mad at myself for being clingy and—”

“Changbin.”

He stopped.

You slid your arms around him, pressing your face into his shoulder, pulling him close — and this time, he didn’t hold back. He wrapped himself around you instantly, burying his face into the crook of your neck like he was trying to disappear there.

“It’s not clingy,” you murmured. “It’s love. It’s you.”

His fingers gripped the back of your shirt. His voice cracked a little. “You’ll call me, right? Every night?”

“Every night,” you promised. “Morning, too.”

He nodded slowly. But didn’t let go.

“Can I… keep your hoodie? The one you always wear?”

You smiled. “I was gonna offer it.”

A pause. Then, soft:

“…You promise you’ll come back?”

You leaned back just enough to cup his cheeks, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes.

“Of course I will. You’re home.”