He told himself he could handle it.

Just a few weeks. Maybe a month. You had work overseas, and he had comeback prep in Seoul — you both agreed it was temporary.

But it had only been five days, and Minho was not okay.

At first, he tried to keep it low-key. Teasing texts. Snarky voice notes. Photos of the cats looking “disappointed” because you weren’t there to spoil them.

But now?

Now it was 2:43 a.m. His dorm was quiet. The members were asleep. And he was curled up on the couch with your hoodie clutched to his chest like it was the last thing tethering him to earth.

His voice shook when he answered your video call.

“Hi,” you said, all sleepy smiles and crackly audio. “Missed you.”

His lip trembled before he could catch it.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I missed you too.”

You tilted your head, instantly worried. “Baby?”

He sniffed — quiet, embarrassed — and buried his face into the sleeve of your hoodie.

“I hate this,” he mumbled, voice thick. “I know we’re fine. I know you’re coming back. But I just— I don’t sleep well. I don’t eat properly. Everything feels wrong.”

You stayed quiet. Let him speak. He needed it.

“Hyunjin caught me crying in the bathroom today,” he added, trying to laugh it off — but it cracked in the middle. “Said he thought I stubbed my toe or something. But it was just your voice in my head. Just you not being here.”

He looked at the screen again, eyes glossy.

“Can you just talk? Please? I don’t care what it’s about. Just talk like you’re next to me.”

So you did. Talked about the weather. What you ate. The way you saw someone with the same hairstyle as him and had to stop yourself from chasing them down like a lunatic.

And eventually — You heard the slow, steady breathing on the other end.

He had fallen asleep. Finally.

Phone still in his hand. Your name still on his screen. And the tiniest smile resting on his lips.