"written by the aces" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here
4. "attention" | lee minho x fem!reader
I'm tired of tearing you apart, know your heart has had enough, it's obvious, you're starved for affection, and you need more, and you need more, you need more attention
author's note: okay so fun fact the left photo in this header is actually a pic of a picnic i went on with my friend that i took off my pinterest (ee if you wanna look at it here's the link! my pinterest is my pride and joy). i've had this fic in my drafts for ages, i adore this song and it feels SO undeniably hyunjin, i hope you enjoy!!
warnings: reader suffers from nightmares, overall angst, anxiety, minho is kind of a dick and can't express his feelings but dw everyone is happy in the end
“Do you want a pudding?”
You didn’t reply, staring into space from where you were sprawled across the couch. Minho shrugged, picking his own up and rifling around the drawer for a spoon.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” you stated.
Minho stopped in his tracks, the spoon he’d grabbed clattering onto the tiled kitchen floor almost comically, a stark contrast to the emotionless look on your face.
“What do you mean?” Minho picked up his spoon and ran a hand through his hair, walking towards where you were lying on the sofa. He moved to sit beside you, then thought better of it. He sat on the floor, looking up at you the way Soonie did when he wanted attention.
A tear rolled down your cheek, startling the both of you.
“You’ve been out of the house before I wake up and you’re tired and go straight to bed when you get home. Half the time you don’t even spend the night here. Felix’s joking about staying over here when you’re at theirs, so he can get a nice bed and some quiet to himself while you pay the rent.”
Minho’s breath caught in his chest. “I didn’t mean to-”
“Yeah, well, maybe it's subconscious, or some shit. It’s not fair, though. I’m your best friend, and your roommate. I’m still doing your fucking laundry for you while you’re gone, even though you’re not here to cook for me, like our deal was. It’s so cold and quiet at night, and my nightmares have been worse. You know they get worse when you’re not here, Minho.”
He did know. He knew all of it. He knew what he was doing, he knew it was hurting you.
But why did he keep letting himself drift from you?
He knew why he did that, too.
“Well, if you’re not gonna talk to me, I’m going to bed. Enjoy your fucking pudding, Lee Minho. Turn the lights off when you’re done, and hang up your own laundry. I’m done.” You stood up, storming off to your bedroom, slamming the door.
He’d fucked it all up.
Three hours later, still in the same position on the living room floor, Minho heard crying.
It was quiet, and sounded muffled, which could’ve been the door, sure, but he was certain it was because you were trying to conceal it. Maybe the work of a pillow or your fluffy blanket, the one his cats were almost always perched on. He knew why.
The reason you’d found a roommate in the first place was because of your nightmares. You couldn’t sleep most nights, interrupted every few hours by vivid thoughts, a tight chest, and tears streaming down your face. Thoughts that wouldn’t fade, no matter how many TikToks you watched, how many cups of tea you sipped. Minho was your best friend, and he knew. He offered to move in. He comforted you at night.
He sacrificed a peaceful apartment on his own with his cats, enjoying his own company. He did it all for you, although he’d protest that it wasn’t a sacrifice at all.
But recently, since he’d been away so much, your sleep had been worse. In fact, you were pretty sure you were running on negative hours of sleep at this point. The worst part was, he wasn’t even busy. He just found excuses to be out of the house, out of your sight.
Minho knocked on your door.
“Are you fully dressed? Say something if you need to like, put something on.”
You didn’t reply, trying to suppress the hiccups that were slipping out of your throat.
“Alright, I’m coming in-oh, God.”
He’d never seen you cry like this before. Your cheeks were puffy and red, eyes glistening, still trickling with tears. Your breaths were uneven and shallow. He wanted to scoop you up and kiss every single part of you, even after the tears stopped, and then hold you forever.
“It’s not…a…nightmare,” you whispered between gasps. “I know…what…you’re thinking.”
“What's the matter then, baby?” Minho sat down beside you, rubbing circles into your cheek softly. He felt the way your cheeks burned at the nickname, biting back a smile.
“Missed you. I’m not good at being angry…I’m just sad. I can’t sleep, and I don’t want to rely on you so much…it’s not fair to you, and I feel bad-”
“Who said it’s not fair?”
“Well, I just thought-”
“I offered to move in with you. I knew what I was signing up for. I’m not sick of you, Y/N.”
You swallowed. “I thought you were fed up. That’s why you…kept avoiding me.”
“God, no. I preferred it when you were angry and blaming me earlier, Y/N, it made me feel less of an asshole, weirdly. I just…my feelings towards you have been a lot lately, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“That sounds like a very polite way of saying ‘Wow Y/N, you’re driving me fucking insane and I don’t want to be near you’,” you pouted. “Just tell me what’s going on, Minho-”
“I like you.”
Your heart thumped so hard you were sure he could hear it. Your hand moved on its own, pulling him down beside you. He landed awkwardly, then shuffled his limbs so he was leaning on his elbows, face above yours, eyes locked.
“I like you too,” you whispered. “That’s why I was scared I’d lost you for good.”
“I thought I’d lost you too, when you yelled at me earlier. You don’t usually cuss so much, baby, it scared me.”
“You called me that earlier. I like it.”
“Yeah? I’ll keep calling you that, baby, as long as you slap the shit out of me if I ever so much as ignore you again. I’m here, you know that right? No matter what. I’ll always be a friend.” he paused, biting his lip, not wanting to push further.
“Definitely not as a friend. You can’t just confess like that and play it off. No, say it properly,” you scolded, scrunching your nose playfully.
Minho rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but you didn’t miss the way his ears turned pink. “I’ll always be a friend, roommate, the best pasta chef in the univers-”
“Lee Minho.”
“-and yours.”
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