Leeknow is the type of boyfriend to show his love in hidden ways. He constantly teases you, banter at the max, but when it's just the two of you at home, he turns more quiet. Domestic, soft moments shared with eachother. He gets more cute, pouting and whining. The two of you have an ease with each other with mutual honesty and communication. Anytime either has a problem, you know it's safe to bring up. Leeknow is a big gifter, buying lavish and expensive things for you. The ring you offhandedly mentioned you thought looked pretty is on your hand the next day. He has a note in his phone about all the things you've ever mentioned wanting, and he makes sure to get them all for your birthday. When his social battery runs out, you're his safe space, cuddles and a movie. He turns into a needy cat and you love that side of him. Night time walks and laughter until your stomach hurts is what it looks like to be with Minho
Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night and realize Minho is gone. Worried, you find him sitting alone in the apartment laundry room, unable to sleep because his thoughts won’t stop spiraling. Instead of pushing him to explain everything, you stay and comfort him.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Anxiety, Overthinking / racing thoughts, Emotional exhaustion, Fear of abandonment, Fear of being a burden, Mild depressive thought patterns, Sleeplessness / insomnia
You woke up to cold sheets beside you. For a second still half asleep, you reached across the bed instinctively – only to find empty space where Minho should’ve been.
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
You pushed yourself up slowly, rubbing tiredness from your eyes before glancing toward the digital clock on the nightstand.
1:37 am.
A faint glow beneath the bedroom door captured your attention and you decided to slip on one of his hoodies lying across the chair. You stepped into the hallway, expecting to find him in the kitchen.
But the apartment was empty. That’s when you noticed his shoes were gone. Your brows pulled together slightly.
Five minutes lander, you found him downstairs in the building’s laundry room.
Minho sat on top of one of the washing machines, hood pulled over his hair hair, one foot lightly nudging against the floor while the machines hummed softly around him.
He looked up when the door opened and for a second, surprise crossed his face. Then his gaze softened. “You’re awake”, he said quietly.
You walked further inside, arms folded against the cold. “So are you.” He hummed as the washing machine beneath him vibrated gently with each cycle. You stopped between the rows of machines, looking at him for a moment before speaking again.
“You can’t sleep?”
Minho looked away first. “Mhm.”
That was all, just a quiet, almost broken sound.
You stepped closer. The room smelled faintly like detergent and warm fabric. Somewhere behind you a dryer rattled softly.
“You could’ve woken me up”, you said gently as you leaned against one of the machines, shooting him a sympathetic look. He shrugged lightly, eyes fixed somewhere on the tilted floor. “I didn’t wanna wake you. You looked comfortable.”
There was something tired about him tonight. Not physically. You knew that his thoughts had been too loud for sleep.
You moved to stand between his knees, hands slipping into the sleeves of the oversized hoodie. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating, engulfing you in a comforting hug, without even touching you yet.
Finally he glanced up at you. “You came all the way downstairs because I disappeared?”
“You vanished at nearly 2 am”, you said sleepily. “I got worried.”
That earned the smallest smile from him. Barely there, but real. You reached up carefully, pushing a few stands of hair away from his eyes. “They’re loud again?”, you asked softly. His gaze flickered slightly. You always knew.
Minho leaned his head back with a quiet sigh. “Just thinking too much.”
“About?”
A pause.
Long enough that you almost thought he wouldn’t answer. Until he broke the silence.
“Everything.”
The word came out tired. Heavy in the way only late night thoughts could be. You nodded slowly like you understood without needing details. Because you did.
He looked at you carefully after that, like he was waiting for more questions. For explanations. For him to make sense.
But you only stepped closer, resting your forehead against his. You were both so cold. “You don’t have to explain yourself”, you whispered. Something in his expression softened immediately. The laundry room stayed quiet around you, machines humming steadily beneath the fluorescent lights while the rest of the building slept above your heads.
Minho’s hands slid loosely around your waist beneath the oversized hoodie, pulling a little closer between his knees. His forehead stayed against yours. Eyes closed now. Breathing slower.
“You should be sleep”, he murmured softly.
“So should you.”
A small huff of laughter escaped him this time.
You smiled faintly at the sound. It was quiet, tired but still enough to loosen something tight in your chest. For a while, neither of you spoke. You just stayed there together while the washing buzzed softly around you. The hoodie sleeves brushed against Minho’s wrists where his hands rested at your waist, thumbs absentmindedly moving against the fabric like he needed something grounding beneath his fingertips.
His touch was gentle tonight. More than usual.
You noticed little things when he got like this. The way he went quieter than usual. The way his shoulders held tension even when he tried to relax. The way his thoughts seemed to pull him somewhere far away. Even while he sat right in front of you.
You lifted your head. “You know it’s kinda depressing seeing you sitting here like that. In a laundry room at two in the morning wearing all black like a sad movie character.” He huffed quietly, tilting his head a bit to nuzzle his nose against yours in a subtle way. “Give me a break, I am overthinking.”
You chuckled, threading your fingers through his hair. “Do you wanna talk about what makes you overthink now?”, you asked softly, your index finger, now gliding across his jaw, tilting his chin up so you could look into his eyes.
But instead, he initially looked past you toward the spinning dryer behind you, expression distant again. The silence stretched long enough that you thought maybe he’d retreat back into himself completely. Then he spoke quietly.
“Sometimes I feel guilty talking about stuff.”
You frowned softly. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged one shoulder. “There’s always something more important. Other people are more tired. More stressed.” His eyes lowered. “Feels stupid sometimes.”
Your chest tightened at his words. If you could, you would climb into his head and kill every single one of his thoughts that kept him up all night.
“Minho.” He looked at you again.
“You’re allowed to feel things even if someone else has it worse. Your feelings are just as valid.” His expression faltered slightly. Your fingers wandered, now brushing lightly along his cheek. His skin was still cold.
“It’s not a competition”, you continued softly. “You don’t have to earn the right to be overwhelmed.” For a second he just looked at you, in complete silence.
And suddenly he looked younger somehow. Less guarded, like he exhaustion had stripped away all the walls he usually kept up so effortlessly. “You always know what to say”, he murmured. You smiled sleepily. “Not always.”
“Most of the time.”
“You’re biased.”
“Maybe.”
That pulled a quiet laugh from you this time. Minho watched you carefully afterward, his expression softening even more now. Some of the tension in his shoulders had eased, though traces of it still lingered beneath the surface.
“I don’t wanna be a burden, you know.”
“Hey”, you whispered. “You’re not a burden.” Minho swallowed once before looking away briefly. His hands slipped higher beneath the hoodie, resting against your back now, his palms resting gently though the thin fabric of your sleep shirt.
You studied him for a moment before carefully taking his face in your hands. “Look at me.” He did.
“You never have to disappear to feel things alone. I get that you want to be alone sometimes and I respect that. But I want you to know that if you don’t want to be alone, I am here, okay? You don’t have to be all by yourself because you think you’d be a burden, because you could never be one. Never”, you emphasized.
The vulnerability in his eyes almost hurt to look at.
Then Minho leaned forward first.
The kiss was soft and slow. Warm despite the cold room around you. You melted into it immediately. His hands held you gently, like something precious, rhumbs brushing small comforting circles against your back while the washing machine hummed beneath him.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours again. “Sorry”, he murmured.
“What for, silly?”
“Waking you up.”
“You didn’t.”
“Still.”
You smiled faintly. “Actually, it was kinda fun finding you. You now, the anticipation of finding you here.”
That earned a quiet laugh from him. The sound echoed softly in the empty laundry room. A dryer buzzed loudly somewhere behind you, signaling the end of its cycle before fading back into silence.
Minho sighed quietly afterward. “Tired?”, you asked.
“Mhm.”
“Enough overthinking for tonight?”
His lips pressed together thoughtfully. “Maybe.”
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “That didn’t sound convincing.”
“It’s difficult to turn my brain off.”
You brushed your thumb beneath one of his eyes gently. “Want help?”
“How?”
You pretended to think for a moment. “We could go upstairs and I could talk about literally anything until you fall asleep.”
“That sounds threatening.”
“I could tell you every detail of the weird dream I had yesterday.”
“Absolutely not.”
You gasped softly. “Rude.”
His face lit up for a second before he glanced down. “You know what the worst part is?”, he asked softly.
“What?”
“I wasn’t even thinking about anything specific anymore.” His voice stayed low and tired. “It just kept going.” He tapped lightly against the side of his head with a weak smile. “One thought turned into ten.”
You nodded carefully. “And then suddenly it feels impossible to breathe normally.” Your hand automatically slipped to his chest, rubbing comforting circles. “What about right now? Is it hard to breathe?”
He looked at you as he absentmindedly said: “No. Not right now.” You could feel his heartbeat against your palm. Warm and steady. It grounded you too somehow, knowing that he was okay right now. Reassured you that he was here, rpesent with you now instead of trapped somewhere inside his own head.
You smiled softly. “Good.”
His gaze lingered on your face, tired but calmer now, the sharp tension around his eyes easing little by little.
“You’re freezing”, you murmured suddenly, brushing your fingers over his cold hands. “So are you.”
You rubbed your thumb gently across his cheekbone. “Come upstairs with me?” He hesitated for only a second before nodding slowly. “Okay.”
You smiled immediately and he looked at you like the reaction alone was enough to make his chest ache. “What?”, he asked quietly.
“Nothing.” You leaned down to press a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I just like when you let me take care of you.”
The faint pink tint creeping across his cheeks was almost impossible to notice beneath the fluorescent light, but you saw it anyway. “Don’t make it weird.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m cold.”
“Sure.”
He rolled his eyes, though the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him completely. Eventually he slid off the washing machine, hands automatically finding your waist again before reluctantly letting go. You reached for his hand immediately instead, intertwining your fingers.
His grip tightened instinctively.
The walk back upstairs felt quieter than before. The elevator hummed softly as it carried you back toward the floor. You leaned against Minho’s side sleepily, your head resting on his shoulder while his thumb traced circles over your knuckles.
When the elevator doors opened, Minho guided you out gently with his hand resting at the small of your back. The apartment felt warmer the second you stepped inside – in complete contrast to the laundry room.
You kicked off your slippers near the door and turned toward him. “Tea?”
His tired eyes lifted slightly. “At two in the morning?”
“Exactly.”
“You sound eighty years old.”
“You’re the one having a crisis in the laundry room.”
He huffed out another laugh under his breath and shook his head, though the corners of his mouth stayed lifted faintly.
While he disappeared toward the bedroom to grab the blanket, you wandered into the kitchen, still wrapped in his oversized hoodie. The apartment lights stayed dim except for the soft yellow glow above the stove.
You filled the kettle with water quietly while listening to Minho moving around in the other room. A few seconds later he reappeared wearing the same dark hoodie as before but now with a blanket draped loosely around his shoulders like a cape.
The kettle clicked softly as the water heated. Outside the windows, the city was still dark, streetlights glowing faintly against the empty roads below. You watched Minho carefully while pulling two mugs from the cabinet.
“What kind?”, you asked, holding up different tea boxes. He squinted sleepily. “Whichever one knocks me unconscious fastest.” You chuckled quietly as you poured the hot water into both mugs while Minho continued watching you from the kitchen.
You handed him one of the mugs carefully before hopping up onto the counter beside him. Minho stood between your knees automatically, one hand around the warm ceramic mug while the other absentmindedly rested against your thigh.
“You know”, you said after a moment. “I used to hate nights like this.”
His eyes lifted slightly. “Like what?”
“When your brain won’t stop.” Minho looked down at his tea quietly. You continued softly. “Everything feels louder at night. Every thought suddenly sounds important. Like you have to solve your entire life before morning.”
A faint smile crossed his face. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”
“I know.”
You blew lightly against your tea before taking a small sip. “When I was younger”, you continued sleepily. “I used to think staying awake would somehow fix things. Like if I thought long enough, eventually I’d figure everything out.”
“And did you?”
“No”, you smiled faintly. “Usually I got a headache.”
That earned another quiet laugh. You watched the way his shoulder relaxed more every minutes. The tea seemed to help too, warming his hands slowing him down enough to stop the constant restlessness from earlier.
“You wanna know something weird?”, you asked.
“I am not sure.”
“I’m serious.”
Minho tilted his head lightly for you to continue, while scooting a bit closer to you.
“Overthinking is kinda arrogant. You start thinking you can predict every possible bad outcome ever, right? Like you think hard enough you can prepare for everything.”
“That’s not arrogant.”
“It kind of is”, you argued sleepily. “It’s like your brain goes: wow, I alone must carry the responsibility of imagining every disaster.”
He stared at you for a second before snorting quietly into his tea. “That’s the dumbest wise thing you’ve ever said.”
“You agree with me though.”
“A little.”
He rolled his eyes again, but there was warmth behind it now instead of exhaustion. You took another sip before studying him carefully again. “Better?”
“Yeah”, he admitted. “Better.”
Your chest loosened immediately hearing that. He looked at you over the rim of his mug for a second before speaking again.
“You know what scared me sometimes?”
“What?”
“That one day you’ll get tired of this.”
Your brows pulled together instantly. “Of what?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely toward himself. “Me disappearing at weird hours. Me overthinking. Me getting stuck in my own head all the time.” You stared at him in disbelief for a moment.
Then you reached forward and grabbed his hoodie strings, tugging him slightly closer. “Lee Minho.”
His eyes lifted to yours immediately at the tone, while he placed the now empty mug onto the counter.
“I love you so much, baby. Sometimes it scares me how much I love you. But one thing is for sure. No matter how many bad nights or moments you are going to have, I’ll always be there for you. Just like how you are always there for me.”
He looked away briefly. “You say that now.”
“I’ll say it tomorrow too.”
You wrapped your arms now completely around his body, pulling him into a hug. Instinctively he raised his hands, wrapping the blanket around you as well, instantly warming you up. “People aren’t only loveable when they’re easy”, you murmured against his neck. “And you take care of me all the time. So let me do the same for you.”
Minho’s throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed. The apartment stayed quiet except for the faint ticking of the kitchen clock and the occasional distant sound of cars somewhere far below your window. His head now fell onto your shoulder, his breath fanning over your skin.
Your heart melted instantly. “Sleepy?”, you asked softly.
“Mhm.”
“But trying not to sleep?”
“Mhm.”
“Why?”
He shrugged slightly without lifting his head. “Feels like if I fall asleep now my thoughts will just start again tomorrow.”
Your expression softened painfully. You exhaled softly before threading your fingers gently though his hair again in a slow and comforting way. “They probably will”, you admitted quietly.
He sighed.
“But that doesn’t mean you have to fight them alone every time.”
A second passed by.
“I love you, jagiya”, he mumbled quietly against your shoulder, tightening his grip around you. A tired smile appeared on your face. “I love you”, you whispered back.
The warmth from the tea and the quiet apartment seemed to slowly pull him closer toward sleep. You could tell by the way his body grew heavier against you. So you started talking. About nothing. Everything. Exactly like you promised.
You told him about the weird dream you’d had a few nights ago involving a human sized fruit in the grocery store that kept cheating on their partners, always mumbling something about “this can’t happen again.”
Minho laughed quietly against you. “What the hell is wrong with you”, he whispered weakly.
“Don’t ask me.”
“Does this kinda stuff concern you? Are you scared that I am going to turn into a banana and cheat on you?”
“I am not concerned about the cheating part. More of the fruit part.”
His shoulders shook lightly. “You know what? I am not going to ask any more questions about this sick dream.”
You grinned and continued anyway, describing increasingly ridiculous details just to hear the soft amused noises escaping him every few seconds. You noticed that he grew quieter and quieter. “Are you falling asleep on me?”, you whispered.
“No.”
“You stopped responding minutes ago.”
“Mhm.”
You smiled softly, while you gently pushed him off you. His eyes were closed, he really was about to fall asleep while standing. “Ok, that’s enough. We’re going to bed.” Without any protest, Minho let you take his hand, fingers loosely intertwining with yours as you guided him toward the bedroom.
By the time you reached the bedroom, Minho looked even sleepier. The second you let go of his hand to pull back the blankets, he crawled into bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a long exhausted sigh that made you smile. You climbed in beside him after turning off the bedside lamp.
Almost instantly Minho turned toward you and reached for you – one arm slipping around your waist beneath the blankets until you were pulled flush against his chest. A few seconds passed in silence, before he broke it. “Thank you so much for everything.”
“Always”, you whispered back and nuzzled closer into him.
