fifty

"he's one of the good ones, and he's all mine." -the good ones, gabby barrett.

——

after the members left, the apartment felt too quiet. the laughter that filled it only minutes ago still echoed faintly, leaving behind warmth and exhaustion.

misun looked around at the mess—empty cans, plates, a pile of takeout boxes on the counter. she sighed softly, moving to clean up, but jihoon caught her wrist.

"leave it," he said gently. "i'll do it later."

she raised an eyebrow. "you? clean?"

he smiled, faint but real. "hey, i can clean."

she laughed under her breath. "i'll believe that when i see it."

he just shook his head and guided her to the couch. "come here. sit with me for a bit."

she let him pull her down beside him, her body sinking into the soft cushions. jihoon leaned back, sighing deeply—the kind of sigh that carried days of built-up fatigue.

then, without saying anything, he shifted and laid his head in her lap.

her lips softened into a small smile. she brushed a strand of hair from his face, her fingers lingering. "you scared me," she whispered.

he opened his eyes a little, looking up at her. "i know."

she looked down at him, her heart aching and warm all at once. "don't ever do that again."

he exhaled slowly. "i won't. i promise."

she traced her fingers through his hair, soft and a little messy. "you were working yourself to death, jihoon. and still waking up early to take me to work. why would you do that?"

he hesitated. "because... i wanted to see you. even if it was just a few minutes."

her chest tightened. "that's not worth your health."

he smiled faintly, eyes half-shut. "it was, to me."

"you're ridiculous," she whispered, brushing her thumb over his temple.

"and you love me anyway," he murmured, his voice growing softer with every word.

"yeah," she breathed, almost inaudibly. "i do."

he smiled again—that sleepy, gentle kind of smile she hadn't seen in so long.

"thank you for staying," he said, his voice fading as his breathing slowed.

"always," she whispered, fingers moving slowly through his hair.

within minutes, his body relaxed completely. he was asleep, his head warm and heavy in her lap.

she watched him for a while, memorizing the calm on his face, the way his lashes brushed against his cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed.

"you have no idea how much i love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet.

he didn't respond, already deep asleep.

she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "rest well, jihoon."

and as the night settled around them, she kept running her fingers through his hair—slow, steady, loving—until she drifted off too, her hand still resting against him.

the next morning, misun woke up to the soft light of morning filtering through the curtains. for a moment, she didn't move—her neck ached, her back stiff, but her heart softened when she realized why.

jihoon was still asleep in her lap.

she smiled faintly, blinking away sleep. every part of her felt sore, but she didn't care. she didn't want to wake him.

he looked so calm. so unlike the man who'd collapsed days ago, or the one who carried the world on his shoulders. right now, he was just jihoon—her jihoon—quiet and safe.

she reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair, soft and careful.

"you're finally resting," she whispered.

he stirred a little but didn't wake.

she stayed like that for a while, watching the sunlight dance across his face, the way it made him look warmer, softer. when he finally shifted again, his eyes blinked open slowly.

"morning," he mumbled, voice low and rough from sleep.

"morning," she said, smiling down at him. "you slept like a rock."

"you didn't move all night?"

"no," she said, laughing quietly. "didn't want to wake you. i think my neck is broken now."

he sat up immediately, guilt flickering in his eyes. "why didn't you wake me?"

"because you needed it more than i did," she said softly, reaching up to smooth his messy hair. "and you looked too peaceful."

he sighed, leaning his forehead against hers for a second. "thank you."

"for what?"

"for staying. for taking care of me. for... everything."

she smiled. "you're welcome. now go wash up. i'll make breakfast."

he blinked. "you? cooking?"

"don't sound so surprised," she said, rolling her eyes. "i can cook."

"last time you said that, you burned the rice."

"that was one time," she protested, standing up and stretching. "besides, you're not allowed to complain today. you're recovering."

he chuckled under his breath as she headed to the kitchen. "please don't burn down my kitchen."

"i'll try not to!"

soon, the smell of sizzling eggs and toasted bread filled the apartment. jihoon leaned against the doorway, watching her quietly—hair a little messy, still in his hoodie, humming softly under her breath.

"what are you staring at?" she asked without turning around.

"you," he said simply.

she turned, giving him a look. "flattery doesn't get you more food."

"wasn't trying to flatter you," he murmured, walking closer. "just... missed this."

her chest tightened a little at his tone. she turned back to the stove, hiding her smile. "sit. it's almost ready."

he obeyed, sitting at the counter, still watching her with that small, tired smile.

when she placed the plate in front of him, he grinned. "you even made it look nice."

"i told you i can cook," she said, feigning pride.

he took a bite—then paused. "okay, fine. this is actually good."

she laughed. "thank you, chef woozi."

he reached out, catching her wrist before she could pull away. "hey."

she looked up, and his voice softened. "really... thank you. for not giving up on me."

her heart melted. "you should stop saying that. i'm not going anywhere."

he smiled faintly. "i'll hold you to that."

"you better," she said, nudging his shoulder.

the morning passed quietly—soft laughter, shared glances, the kind of peace they hadn't had in a long time.

and as she watched him eat, alive and smiling again, misun realized something—she didn't just love him for who he was. she loved the quiet, the warmth, the way he made even silence feel safe.

and this—this simple morning with him—was everything she'd ever wanted.