#soft jooheon

You think I don't recognize it by now. All your tells. The way you won't look at me, the way you shrug off my teasing. But I do. I always do. And I already know I'm not letting you run yourself into the ground tonight. I lean against the door, giving you another minute before I say anything.

"Hey." 

You don't answer. Not even a glance. 

"You're gonna take the finish off that thing." 

Nothing. I don't even think you're hearing me.

I push off the doorframe now, stepping behind you. My hands lift, settling at your waist, not grabbing. Just resting. The sponge slows in your hand. Then stops. You exhale, quiet and slow.

"I'm fine," you mutter, still not meeting my eyes. 

I shake my head. "Don't." 

My grip on your waist tightens just enough, so I know you feel it. 

"You know you don't have to do that with me," I say softly. 

You look at me for the first time, giving me a sad attempt at a smile. 

"It's nothing, really. Just a long day."

Your eyes fall quickly after, hand moving back to the sponge. I reach out, fingers gripping around your wrist before you can start avoiding me again. You exhale, shoulders sinking like they just can't keep up anymore.

"I'm just—" you swallow, staring down. "I'm tired." 

There it is. Your door unlocking, your guard slipping. Now I can help. I scan your face for a moment before my thumb grazes against your jaw, lifting your chin gently so you have to meet my eyes.

"I know," I say softly. "And that's why you're done for tonight." 

"I just need to—" 

"No," I say, not sharp, just certain. "You don't."

My hand slides back to your waist, the other settling at the small of your back as I guide you toward the hallway. You hesitate for a moment, but then you move. I don't let go as we walk down the hallway, your body leaning into my hold slightly. 

When we reach the bedroom, I nod toward the edge of the bed, my voice firm but soft. "Come here."

You listen, sinking down onto the mattress. I disappear into the bathroom and come back with a couple of makeup remover wipes. 

"Close your eyes," I murmur. 

You get that look of resistance for just a second before you decide you can't protest anymore, closing your eyes. I start wiping your face slowly. Your hands loosen in your lap, your fingers uncurling from their tight grip like they feel safe enough to stop bracing. 

"Talk to me," I say quietly, brushing gently near your lashes with care. "What was it?" 

You sigh, eyes opening slowly. 

"That's the problem. It wasn't just an 'it.' It was..." your voice wobbles. "It was just everything. One thing after another. Like every time I finished something, there was more." 

I listen as I finish wiping away the last of your makeup, then gesture to your shirt. You lift your arms for me without protest. I slide your shirt off and replace it with one of mine, baggy and oversized. Just how I know you like it. 

"Everyone just needed something from me," you continue, voice getting smaller. "And I felt like... like if I stopped just for a second, everything would fall apart and it...it would be my fault." 

You look away again. I know how you get, always afraid to disappoint anyone, not wanting to seem weak. You take on the impossible without a second thought, only to wonder why you're so drained. You're selfless, and I love that about you. But I hate how it makes you forget you're allowed to rest too. 

"You always think if you stop, everything breaks," I say, shaking my head slightly. "It doesn't." 

I reach out and brush your cheek. 

"You don't have to hold everything together. Not here," my fingers tip your chin gently so your eyes meet mine once again. "Not with me." 

You lean into my hand, your eyes staying on mine this time. 

"I know," you whisper. 

I move closer, then sit behind you, drawing you back between my legs without a word. You settle against me fully, your weight giving in like it knew it couldn't hold much longer. My hands come to rest at your shoulders, thumbs pressing slowly into the tension I already knew was there. You always carry it here the most. You exhale sharply, and then I feel your body grow more limp.

"Feels good?" I ask, my voice soft. 

You sigh, nodding as your head falls back against my chest. Your hand lies on my thighs as I work out the tension, my thumbs rubbing gentle circles. 

"I don't know why I do that," you murmur eventually, your voice worn but softer. 

"Because you think you have to." 

A thoughtful hum leaves you, and you tilt your head to the side subtly, like your body is self-consciously letting me know where you need me more.  My thumbs move slowly, sliding up the side of your neck. 

"I just thought if I stopped, everything would pile up. And then I would be stuck there, trapped, forced to feel everything and..." your voice trails off for a moment, and I wait. I always do. "...be alone with it all." 

"You're never alone," I say calmly. 

You adjust slightly against me, resting your head on my chest now, eyes closed. My hands fall to your hair, brushing it back gently. 

"I know," you murmur. "You won't ever let me be alone." 

"No," I agree quietly. "I won't." 

Silence falls around us, the air warm and steady. Your breathing is evening out, less shallow, deeper, and calmer. Safe. Good. That's what I want.

"I should've just..." you whisper, your words slower now, "talked to you." 

"You did," I murmur, my own head falling back gently onto the headboard while I continue to run my fingers through your hair. "Eventually." 

A soft smirk comes across my face, and I lean forward, looking down at you. "Sometimes you just have to clean the same clean spot on the counter a few times before you do," I press a tender kiss to the top of your head. "And that's okay." 

A soft breath of a laugh escapes you, and I see the corner of your mouth twitch up slightly. 

"It was dirty," you mumble. 

I smile against your hair. "It wasn't." 

You let out another quiet breath, settling in more deeply into my chest. I can feel the way you're barely still with me, your fingers uncurling from my shirt with every second that passes. 

"You make it feel so quiet," you say, voice just above a whisper, "in places that are always just so... loud." 

I don't answer right away, just hold you while I feel your breathing drift slower. 

"Then let it be quiet," I murmur after a moment. "I've got the rest."

You move slightly in my hold, sinking into me completely now. 

"I don't know what I'd do..." you mumble, barely there, "...without you."

I can feel the moment you slip under, your weight fully relaxes under me as your breathing deepens. You just needed permission to stop. You never needed it, but I'll give it to you anyway. I always will.

I lean down again, taking in the scent of your hair before pressing a slow, long kiss to the top of it.