Archive of Our Own

Minho wakes up because something is... yelling at him. Not loud. Not really. It's more like a tiny, offended little voice vibrating against his collarbone.

"What the fuck?"

Minho blinks his eyes open slowly, still half sunk in sleep, one arm draped lazily across his chest where Jisung had fallen asleep the night before. He frowns, brows pulling together.

Jisung's voice. But-wrong. Too close. Too small.

Minho tilts his head down. And freezes. There is a man-his boyfriend, unmistakably, same messy hair, same pouty mouth, same sleep-creased cheek-standing on his chest. Standing. On his chest. He doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. His brain stalls out completely as he stares at a version of Jisung that is-

-tiny.

Like. Tiny tiny. Easily small enough to fit in his palm. Smaller than his phone. Smaller than Minho's already objectively small hand.

Jisung plants his hands on his hips, glaring up at him. "Are you seeing this or am I hallucinating?"

Minho's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. "...Hannie?"

Jisung squints. "Yeah, that's me. Unfortunately. Can you not look at me like I'm a bug, it's pissing me off?"

Minho jolts into motion, hands hovering immediately, terrified of touching him and somehow making it worse. "What- what happened to you? Why are you- why are you like this?" His voice climbs higher with every word, panic bleeding in fast. "Did you hit your head? Did I hit my head? Is this a dream-"

Jisung crouches slightly as Minho shifts, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt to keep his balance. "If you shake me off your chest, I'm going to die, so maybe relax."

"I'm not shaking you-" Minho snaps, then immediately softens, hands coming in slower this time. "I'm not- I'm trying not to- hold on, hold on-" He carefully slides one hand under Jisung. Jisung steps onto his palm like it's nothing. Like this is normal. Like he hasn't just become pocket-sized overnight.

Minho lifts him up closer to his face, eyes wide, scanning him like he's checking for injuries. "Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy? Can you breathe normally? Can you-"

"I'm hungry."

Minho stops. "...What?"

Jisung crosses his arms, looking deeply unimpressed. "I said I'm hungry."

"You're-" Minho sputters, gesturing vaguely with his free hand. "You're the size of my phone."

"Okay, and? Tiny people don't need food now?" Jisung shoots back immediately. "I went to bed normal and woke up like this, obviously something's wrong, but also I didn't eat dinner properly because you stole half my food, so yeah, I'm hungry."

Minho stares at him. Just stares. "You're not concerned?" he asks finally, voice thin.

Jisung shrugs, which at this size is honestly ridiculous. "I mean, yeah, a little. But what am I supposed to do about it right now? Grow back on command?" He looks around Minho's room from his new, horrifyingly large perspective. "...Also everything is huge. This is kind of insane."

Minho brings him even closer, squinting. "You were normal when we went to sleep."

"I'm aware."

"You didn't eat anything weird?"

"I ate what you ate."

Minho pauses. "...That doesn't help."

Jisung sighs loudly, then walks a few steps across Minho's palm, peering over the edge like he's inspecting a cliff. "Wow. You could drop me."

"I would not drop you," Minho says immediately, offended and panicked all at once, curling his fingers slightly to make a barrier around him. "Don't go near the edge-why are you near the edge-"

"I have to see things," Jisung argues. "Also your hand is small even normally, this is like-" he gestures around, "-barely enough real estate."

Minho glares. "My hands are fine."

"They're tiny."

"They're proportional."

"Not anymore, I guess," Jisung mutters, then perks up suddenly. "Wait. If I'm this small, I probably don't need that much food. You could give me like-crumbs."

Minho looks horrified. "I am not feeding you crumbs."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not a bird, Jisung!"

Jisung gives him a look. "I'm also not supposed to be fun-sized, Minho, but here we are."

That-unfortunately-shuts him up. Minho exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face before very carefully adjusting his grip again, bringing Jisung closer to his chest like he's afraid of even the air hurting him.

"We need to figure this out," he says, quieter now, worry threading through every syllable. "This isn't normal. You can't just stay like this."

"I know," Jisung says, softer too-but only for a second before his stomach audibly growls.

They both freeze. Jisung looks up at him, dead serious.

"...Food first."

Minho stares. Then, against all logic, all panic, all sense-

He huffs out a disbelieving laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"Starving," Jisung corrects.

Minho shakes his head, already sitting up carefully, one hand still cupped protectively around him. "If I put you down, you stay in one place. Don't move. Don't climb anything. Don't-breathe too hard."

Jisung snorts. "You're acting like I'm going to evaporate."

"You might!" Minho shoots back immediately. "I don't know the rules here!"

"...Fair."

Minho hesitates, then uses his other hand to gently, gently lift Jisung between his fingers and set him on the bed, right in the center.

Jisung immediately flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "This is weird."

Minho hovers over him for a second longer, like he physically can't bring himself to step away.

"Min," Jisung says, glancing over. "If you don't get me food, I'm going to die before the mysterious shrinking does anything."

Minho exhales sharply through his nose. "...I hate you."

"No you don't."

Minho points at him. "Don't move."

Jisung gives him a lazy salute from the mattress. "Bring me something good."

Minho mutters something under his breath and finally turns toward the kitchen-
-and keeps looking back every two seconds like his boyfriend might somehow get even smaller if he blinks too long. Minho makes it three steps into the kitchen before stopping dead.

"...Nope."

He turns around immediately. There is absolutely no way he's leaving Jisung in the bedroom. None. Zero. Not happening. What if he falls? What if he wanders? What if he somehow gets even smaller and Minho loses him in the blankets-

Minho is already halfway back down the hall before his brain can spiral any further. Jisung is exactly where he left him-spread out on the bed like he owns it, one arm behind his head, the other draped over his stomach like this is just another lazy morning.

He looks up when Minho reappears. "That was fast. Did you teleport or-oh, you missed me."

"I didn't miss you," Minho snaps, already reaching down, hands careful as he scoops him back up. "I'm not leaving you in here by yourself."

Jisung raises a brow, clearly amused as he settles easily into Minho's palm. "Wow. So clingy."

"Shut up."

"You came back in like five seconds."

"You're pocket-sized!" Minho shoots back. "You could get lost in a wrinkle of the sheets, Jisung, I'm not taking that risk."

Jisung hums, clearly pleased with himself as Minho carries him back to the kitchen, cradling him close to his chest like something fragile. Something important. Minho sets him down on the counter, far from the edge, then hesitates-before grabbing a small folded dish towel and placing it underneath him like a makeshift cushion.

Jisung blinks down at it. "...Did you just make me a bed?"

"It's so you don't slip," Minho mutters, already turning away. "Stay there."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that like you didn't immediately try to explore my hand earlier."

"That was different. Your hand is a new environment."

Minho shoots him a look over his shoulder. "So is the kitchen."

Jisung opens his mouth-
-then pauses, glancing around at everything towering around him. The cabinets feel like skyscrapers. The counter stretches endlessly in both directions.

"...Okay, fair," he admits.

Minho huffs quietly and turns back to the stove, grabbing a pan with movements that are a little sharper than usual. He keeps glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, like he expects Jisung to just... vanish.

Jisung, for his part, sits cross-legged on the towel, watching. "Make eggs," he says after a second.

"I am making eggs."

"Good."

Minho cracks them into the pan, stirring absentmindedly. "You don't get to be picky right now."

"I'm always picky."

"You're three inches tall."

"Still picky."

Minho shakes his head, but there's something softer under it now. Less panic. Still worried-very, very worried-but grounded enough to function. He moves on autopilot, scrambling the eggs, popping bread into the toaster.

"...We need to go to Chan's," he says suddenly.

Jisung looks up. "Yeah, probably."

Minho glances back at him. "You agree?"

"Well, yeah. He's smart." Jisung shrugs. "If anyone can figure out why I turned into a limited edition collectible, it's him."

Minho snorts despite himself. "You are not a collectible."

"Speak for yourself. I'm adorable."

Minho points his spatula at him. "This is not funny."

"I didn't say it was funny," Jisung says, tilting his head. "I said I'm adorable. Those are two separate things."

Minho presses his lips together, fighting a smile-and losing.

"...Unbelievable."

The toaster pops.

Minho moves quickly, plating everything before turning back to Jisung, who is now very clearly watching the food like a hawk.

Minho hesitates. "...How am I supposed to-"

"Tiny bites," Jisung says immediately. "Obviously."

Minho sighs, then carefully tears off a small piece of toast, breaking it down even further between his fingers before placing it in front of him.

Jisung lights up. "Perfect."

He grabs it with both hands-both hands-and takes a bite like it's completely normal. Minho just... watches. Watches his grown boyfriend sit on a dish towel, holding a crumb like it's a full meal. Something in his chest twists.

"...We're fixing this today," Minho says quietly.

Jisung glances up mid-bite. "Yeah, okay."

Minho crouches slightly so they're closer to eye level. "I'm serious."

"I know." Jisung's voice softens just a little. "We will."

There's a beat. Then Jisung lifts the crumb slightly. "This is actually really good, by the way. You should make tiny food more often."

Minho groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh my god."

Jisung grins. And Minho-despite everything-feels his chest ease just a fraction.

"...Eat," he mutters. "Then we're going to Chan's."

Minho ends up not even bothering with a separate plate. At some point, halfway through trying to portion out "appropriately small bites," he just sighs, sits down at the counter, and brings his own plate closer.

"Here," he mutters, breaking off another piece of toast and holding it out.
Jisung leans forward immediately, taking a bite straight from his fingers like it's the most natural thing in the world. Minho freezes for half a second.

"...You could at least pretend this isn't weird."

Jisung chews, shrugs. "It's only weird for you."

"It is not only weird for me, you're eating out of my hand like-"

"Like your very tiny, very hungry boyfriend," Jisung interrupts, already reaching for the next bite.

Minho exhales through his nose, but he doesn't pull away. He just... adjusts. Breaks pieces smaller. Holds them steadier. And keeps feeding him. Eggs next-carefully scooped onto the tip of the fork, then lowered down. Jisung takes it without hesitation, sitting cross-legged on the towel, focused entirely on eating. Minho watches him between bites. Watches how quickly he goes through the food.

"...How are you eating so much?" he asks finally.

Jisung hums around a bite. "What do you mean?"

"You're tiny."

"And starving," Jisung says, like that explains everything. "Also I think my metabolism didn't shrink with me."

Minho squints at him. "That's not how science works."

"Do I look like science is currently working at all?" Jisung shoots back.

Minho pauses. "...Fair."

By the time Minho's plate is empty, Jisung is leaning back slightly, hands resting on his stomach, looking completely satisfied.

Minho blinks at him. "You ate half my breakfast."

Jisung grins. "You love me."

"That's not the point."

"It is a little bit the point."

Minho huffs, but there's no real bite to it. He carefully wipes his fingers, then reaches over, gently brushing a crumb off Jisung's shoulder. "...Done?"

"Yeah," Jisung says, stretching his arms over his head. "I feel better."

"Good," Minho mutters. "Because we're leaving soon."

He hesitates again-then scoops Jisung back into his hand, much more confidently this time.

Jisung settles easily, leaning back against Minho's fingers like a tiny chair. "You're getting used to this."

"I am not."

"You are."

"I'm tolerating it until we fix it."

"Mmhm."

Minho rolls his eyes and carries him back to the bedroom. He sets Jisung down on the bed again-same spot, center, safest possible place-before moving to his dresser. Jisung watches him for a second, then glances down at himself.

"...You know," he says casually, "I'd also like to change."

Minho pauses mid-motion, a shirt halfway pulled out of the drawer. Slowly turns. "...Into what?"

Jisung gestures vaguely at his current clothes. "These are yesterday's clothes. I deserve options."

Minho stares at him. "You don't have options."

"That sounds like a you problem."

Minho drags a hand down his face. "Jisung."

"What?"

"You are three inches tall."

"And fashionable."

"You're not even wearing shoes."

"I don't need shoes. I need outfits."

Minho lets out a long, suffering exhale, then yanks a hoodie out of the drawer a little harder than necessary.

"Yeah, well," he mutters, already pulling it on, "we'll go buy you Barbie doll clothes if Chan can't fix this immediately."

There's a beat. Then-
Jisung absolutely loses it.

"You're going to put me in a Barbie outfit?" he wheezes, collapsing onto his side, laughing. "Minho, please-please pick something cute if you do."

"I am not picking anything," Minho shoots back. "I'm handing you over to Chan and letting him deal with it."

"Wow. Passing me off already."

"I am not equipped for this!" Minho gestures wildly at him. "You fit in my hand!"

"Your hands are small," Jisung points out helpfully.

Minho glares. "I swear to god-"

Jisung just grins, completely unbothered, rolling onto his back again.

"Just saying," he adds, "if I have to stay like this, I'm committing to the bit."

Minho shakes his head, grabbing his phone and keys, but there's the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "...We're fixing this today."

Jisung props himself up on his elbows. "And if you don't?"

Minho walks over, scooping him up again without hesitation. "Then I guess," he says flatly, "you're getting a wardrobe."

Jisung beams.

Minho gets halfway to the door before stopping again. "...No."

Jisung, currently perched in his palm, squints up at him. "You say that a lot for someone who supposedly has a plan."

"I do have a plan," Minho mutters. "The plan just-needs adjustment."

"Uh huh."

Minho turns on his heel and heads straight for his closet.

Jisung looks around as they move, one hand gripping Minho's finger for balance. "Where are we going?"

"Give me a second."

Minho starts digging. And digging. And digging. Jisung leans against his thumb, watching with mild interest as hangers shift and clothes get shoved aside. "If you're looking for my new wardrobe, I think we've already established you don't have anything in my size."

"Not helping."

"Just being realistic."

Minho ignores him, reaching further back into the closet-until his fingers catch on something. "Ha." He pulls it out triumphantly.

Jisung tilts his head. "...Your chest bag?"

Minho holds it up. Black, compact, worn just enough to be soft. "You're not riding in my hand the entire way. What if I need both hands?"

"I don't know, don't drop me?"

Minho glares. "Exactly my point."

He steps back into the room, setting Jisung down briefly on the bed while he unzips the bag. Jisung watches, curious now, as Minho rummages around for a second-then disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a small, soft hand towel.

"...What are you doing?" Jisung asks slowly.

"Making it comfortable," Minho says like it's obvious.

He folds the towel, tucks it carefully into the bottom of the bag, adjusting it a few times until it sits just right. Not too bulky. Not too flat. Then he pauses, considering-
-and grabs one of his softer t-shirts from the bed, stuffing part of it in as extra padding.

Jisung raises a brow. "Wow. Luxury."

"Shut up."

Minho zips it halfway, testing the opening, then nods to himself. "...Okay."

He turns back to Jisung and crouches, holding out his hand again. "Come here."

Jisung steps on without hesitation, looking far too pleased with the entire situation. "You built me a nest."

"It's not a nest."

"It's a nest."

"It's a safety measure."

"Mm, sure."

Minho carefully lowers him into the bag, movements slow and deliberate. Jisung disappears for a second-
-then pops back up, settling into the makeshift lining, arms resting casually on the edge of the zipper opening.

"...Oh," he says, visibly impressed. "This is actually really comfortable."

Minho exhales quietly, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. "Good."

Jisung shifts a little, getting situated, then looks up at him with a grin. "I can see everything from here."

Minho adjusts the strap across his chest, making sure the bag sits securely, one hand instinctively coming up to steady it. Jisung leans forward slightly, peering out like he's riding in the world's smallest window seat.

"This is kind of fun," he admits.

Minho gives him a look. "You're in a bag."

"Your purse."

"It's not a purse."

"It's literally a purse."

"It's a bag."

"It's a purse you wear on your chest."

Minho sighs, already heading for the door. "If you fall out-"

"I won't fall out," Jisung interrupts. "You padded it like I'm a fragile antique."

Minho's grip tightens slightly on the strap anyway. "You kind of are right now."

Jisung blinks at that. Then softens-just a little.

"...Hey," he says, quieter.

Minho glances down at him.

Jisung rests his chin on his arms against the edge of the bag. "You're doing good."

Minho scoffs, looking away almost immediately. "I put you in a bag."

"A very comfortable, well-thought-out bag."

"That doesn't make this normal."

"No," Jisung agrees easily. "But you're handling it."

Minho doesn't respond to that. He just adjusts the strap one more time, making sure Jisung is secure, visible, safe-
-and heads out the door. Straight to Chan.

Minho doesn't bother knocking. The door swings open like he owns the place, footsteps quick and urgent as he steps inside.

"Chan-hyung! Bang Chan! Christopher-!"

His voice echoes through the apartment.

A beat-
-and then the studio door opens.

Chan steps out, headphones half around his neck, already frowning. "What is all the yelling for, Lee Minho-"

He stops. Minho is standing there, slightly out of breath, one hand gripping the strap of his chest bag like it's the only thing keeping him together.

"Something happened," Minho blurts immediately. "And we don't know how it happened and we need your help-God, please tell me you can help us."

Chan blinks once, thrown off by the sheer intensity. "...Who is we?"

There's a small shift.
And then-
Jisung pops his head up out of the bag like it's a normal Tuesday.

"Hi, Channie-hyung."

Silence. Long. Heavy. Absolute.

Chan stares. His eyes flick from Minho-
-to the bag-
-to the tiny, very real Jisung resting his arms on the zipper like he belongs there.

"...No."

Minho points at him immediately. "Don't do that. Don't start with 'no.' I need solutions, not denial."

Chan doesn't move. "...No," he repeats, slower this time, like maybe the word will start making sense if he says it differently.

Jisung lifts a hand and waves. "It's me. I promise."

Chan takes a step closer. Another. He leans in, squinting like he's trying to find the trick. "Why is he-"

"Small?" Minho snaps. "Yeah, that's what I'm trying to figure out."

Chan crouches slightly, bringing himself level with the bag, eyes wide now as he takes in the details. The way Jisung shifts. The way he blinks. Breathes. "...Hannie?"

Jisung grins. "In the flesh. Just... less of it."

Chan exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Okay. Okay, no, hold on-this isn't-this doesn't make sense."

"Correct," Minho says. "That's the problem."

Chan straightens, pacing once like he's trying to reboot his brain. "Did you hit your head?"

"No," both of them say at the same time.

Chan points at Jisung. "You?"

"I woke up like this."

Chan points at Minho. "You?"

"I woke up to this."

Chan presses his hands to his face for a second. "That is not a normal sentence."

Jisung leans his chin on his arms again. "I was hoping you'd say something more helpful."

Chan drops his hands, staring at him again like he might disappear if he blinks too long. "...Why are you in a bag?"

"It's a very comfortable bag," Jisung says defensively.

"I padded it," Minho adds quickly.

Chan looks between them. "...You put him in a bag."

"I wasn't going to carry him in my hands the entire way!" Minho shoots back. "What if I dropped him?"

"I said he wouldn't drop me," Jisung adds.

Chan makes a small, strangled noise. Then-
Very carefully-
He steps closer again. "...Can I-"

Minho immediately shifts the bag slightly back. "Be careful."

"I'm not going to hurt him," Chan says, mildly offended-but his voice is softer now, cautious.

Minho hesitates. Then slowly adjusts the bag forward again. Chan reaches out, movements slow, deliberate-like approaching something fragile, something unreal. His finger hovers for a second-
Jisung looks at it. Then, without hesitation, grabs onto it with both hands.

Chan freezes. "...Oh my god."

Jisung laughs. "You're acting like I'm going to break."

"You might," Chan says immediately.

"See?" Minho cuts in. "I said that."

Jisung rolls his eyes. "You're both dramatic."

Chan gently lifts his finger just slightly, enough for Jisung to rise with it, then lowers it again just as carefully, like testing weight, reality. "...This is real," he murmurs.

"Thank you," Minho says flatly. "Glad we established that."

Chan looks up at him. "Give me a second. I need to think."

"Think faster," Minho says. "He ate half my breakfast and I don't know if that's normal at this size."

"It's not," Chan says automatically.

"Okay, great, another problem."

"I'm still hungry, by the way," Jisung adds.

Minho whips his head down. "You just ate!"

"I'm small, not cured!"

Chan lets out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he starts pacing again. "...Okay. Okay. We're figuring this out."

Minho watches him like he's the last lifeline. "You can figure this out, right?" he asks, quieter now.

Chan pauses. Looks at Jisung-
Tiny, alive, somehow still joking-
Then back at Minho.

"...I don't know what this is yet," he admits. "But we're not leaving him like this."

Jisung nods, satisfied. "Good answer."

Minho exhales, some of the tightness in his chest finally loosening. "...Okay."

Chan points toward the studio. "Come on. Both of you. I need to see if anything-anything-about this makes sense."

Minho adjusts the bag instinctively, hand hovering near it as he follows. Jisung settles in, peeking out, completely at ease.

"...This is kind of exciting," he says under his breath.

Minho glares down at him. "Don't get used to it."

Jisung just smiles.

Chan's studio feels even more chaotic than usual. Cables everywhere, monitors glowing, half-empty cups scattered like evidence of too many late nights. The low hum of equipment fills the space as Minho steps in, careful-too careful-like one wrong movement might undo everything.

"Here," Chan says, already clearing a space on his desk, shoving aside a notebook and a pair of headphones.

Minho nods, moving closer. He hesitates for just a second before reaching into the bag, fingers gentle as he lifts Jisung out again.
Jisung comes easily, settling into his palm like he belongs there now.

"...You good?" Minho murmurs, quieter than before.

Jisung glances up at him, expression soft for a split second. "Yeah."

Minho nods once. Then carefully lowers him onto the desk. Jisung lands on the smooth surface, immediately steadying himself with one hand before straightening up, looking around with open curiosity.

"...Wow," he breathes. "This is a whole new perspective."

Chan is already sitting, laptop open, fingers flying across the keyboard. "What does that even mean," he mutters to himself. "Sudden full-body size reduction, no trauma, no external trigger-"

"External trigger?" Minho echoes, hovering close to the desk like a guard dog.

"I don't know," Chan says quickly. "Chemicals, radiation, something-anything-this doesn't just happen."

Jisung starts wandering.

Minho immediately notices. "Where are you going?"

"I'm exploring," Jisung says, stepping over the edge of a notebook like it's a ledge.

"Don't go far."

"I'm right here."

Chan glances down briefly, watching him climb over a pen with surprising ease. "...He's very mobile for someone that small."

"I told you I'm fine," Jisung calls up.

"You're not fine," Minho and Chan say at the same time.

Jisung grins.

Chan shakes his head, refocusing on the screen, scrolling, typing, opening tab after tab. "This is ridiculous," he mutters. "There's nothing. No condition, no case, no-"

"Keep looking," Minho says, a little too fast.

Chan does. The room fills with the quiet rhythm of keys clicking, the occasional frustrated exhale, the soft shuffle of Jisung moving around the desk. Minho doesn't sit. He stays standing, close enough that his shadow falls over Jisung every time he moves. Watching. Always watching.

Jisung eventually wanders back closer, stopping near Chan's keyboard, looking up at the massive screen like he can make sense of it from down there. "...Find anything?" he asks.

Chan leans back slightly, rubbing his eyes. "Nothing that explains this."

"That's reassuring," Minho mutters.

"It just means we don't know yet," Chan corrects. "Not that there's no solution."

Minho exhales slowly, but the tension is still there, tight in his shoulders. Jisung sits down near the edge of the keyboard, legs stretched out in front of him.

"...So I'm just... like this for now?"

"For now," Chan says carefully.

Minho immediately shakes his head. "Not for long."

Jisung glances up at him. There's something steadier in Minho's voice now. Not panic-determination.

"...Okay," Jisung says softly.

Chan looks between them, then back to his screen, fingers already moving again. "Let me try something else," he says. "There has to be something we're missing."

Jisung leans back on his hands, watching the two of them-one pacing, one typing-both clearly trying to fix something that doesn't make sense. "...Hey, Min."

Minho looks down instantly. "What?"

Jisung tilts his head. "If I get any smaller, you're going to lose me."

Minho's expression tightens immediately. "You're not getting smaller."

"I'm just saying-"

"You're not," Minho repeats, firmer this time.

Jisung studies him for a second-
Then nods. "Okay."

Chan leans back in his chair, hands dragging down his face slow and heavy. "...I've got nothing immediate," he admits, voice muffled behind his palms. "No cases, no studies, nothing even close to this."

Silence settles for a second.
Then-

"Don't worry, Chan," Jisung says brightly from the desk. "I can still rap."

Chan huffs out a short laugh despite himself, dropping his hands. "Yeah," he says, shaking his head, "but you can't perform."

Jisung opens his mouth-
-then pauses.
"...Okay, that's rude."

Minho doesn't laugh. He crouches down instead, both hands braced on the edge of the desk before he just... lets his forehead drop against it with a soft thunk. "This sucks."

It comes out muffled, frustrated, tired in a way that wasn't there earlier. Jisung watches him for a second. Then walks closer. Carefully, he reaches out-
-and pats Minho's cheek. It's small. Gentle. His whole hand barely covers anything at this size, but the intent is there, steady and warm.

"Hey," Jisung says softly. "Don't panic. We'll figure this out."

Minho doesn't move.

Jisung pats him again, a little firmer this time. "Seriously. You've got Chan, you've got me-we're not exactly helpless here."

Chan glances over, something in his expression softening at that. "Let me keep researching," he adds, already turning back to his laptop. "I'll dig deeper. There's got to be something."

Minho exhales slowly against the desk. "...Yeah."

"And," Chan continues, fingers already moving again, "maybe try to take your focus off it in the meantime."

Minho lifts his head just enough to turn slightly, pressing his cheek against the desk now instead. "...How the hell am I supposed to take my focus off the fact that my boyfriend is the height of an apple?"

There's a beat.

Jisung blinks.
Then-
He perks up instantly.

"Oh!" he says, lighting up. "We could go shopping!"

Minho doesn't even respond at first.

Jisung leans forward, eyes bright now. "You promised!"

Chan snorts quietly under his breath.

Minho slowly turns his head, staring at him like he's lost his mind. "You want to go shopping."

"Yes."

"You are three inches tall."

"Exactly," Jisung says, like that proves everything. "I need clothes."

"You don't need clothes."

"I absolutely need clothes. I cannot show up to my tiny new life in yesterday's outfit."

Chan is fully watching now, chin resting in his hand, clearly entertained despite the situation. Minho pushes himself up slightly, still crouched, eyes locked on Jisung.

"You think I'm taking you to a store," he says slowly, "so you can buy doll clothes."

"Barbie clothes," Jisung corrects.

"I am not-"

"You said it first."

"I said it as a joke."

"And now it's a solution."

Minho stares at him. Jisung grins.

Chan lets out another quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Honestly, it might not be the worst idea."

Minho snaps his head toward him. "Don't encourage him."

"I'm just saying," Chan shrugs, "you can't keep him in the same outfit forever. And if we don't fix this today..."

Minho goes still. Jisung tilts his head, watching him carefully now.

"...Min."

Minho exhales. Long. Slow. Then drags a hand down his face again. "...Unbelievable," he mutters.

Jisung's smile creeps back in. "So we're going?"

Minho points at him. "If-if-we go, you are staying in the bag."

"Obviously."

"And you're not picking anything ridiculous."

"Define ridiculous."

Minho narrows his eyes. "Jisung."

Jisung raises both hands innocently. "Okay, okay. Normal tiny clothes."

Chan grins, already turning back to his laptop. "Text me if anything changes."

Minho stands, already reaching for Jisung again. "This is insane," he mutters under his breath.

Jisung steps into his hand without hesitation, looking entirely too pleased. "Yeah," he says lightly. "But at least it's fun."

Minho glares down at him. "...We're fixing this," he says again.

Jisung just leans back into his palm, relaxed. "After we shop."

The Barbie aisle is... bright. Too bright. Pink everywhere. Tiny plastic smiles. Rows and rows of miniature outfits hanging like they're waiting to judge him. Minho stands in the middle of it, very still, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to look like he absolutely belongs here. He does not. There are no kids nearby. No parents. Just him. And his boyfriend. In a bag.

"...This is humiliating," Minho mutters under his breath.

From the slightly unzipped chest bag, Jisung peeks out, completely unfazed, eyes scanning the shelves like he's on a mission.

"Oh, wait-stop," Jisung says, tapping the edge of the zipper. "That one. Pull that one closer."

Minho doesn't move.

"...Min."

Minho exhales through his nose, glancing around once-twice-before finally reaching out and grabbing the tiny hanger Jisung pointed at.
He holds it up, inspecting it like it might explode.

"...This is a crop top."

Jisung squints at it. "Yeah. It's cute."

"You are not wearing that."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

Jisung leans further out of the bag, bracing his arms on the edge. "You literally said I could pick things."

"I said normal things."

"That is normal."

"That is not normal."

"It is for me."

Minho glares at the shirt. Then adds it to the small pile in his hand anyway.

Jisung beams. "Knew you'd come around."

"I didn't come around," Minho mutters. "I'm compromising."

"Mmhm."

They move down the aisle. Jisung directs. Minho obeys-with visible reluctance.

"That hoodie-no, the black one."

Minho grabs it. "...This one is actually normal."

"I have good taste."

"That's debatable."

"Rude."

Another outfit. Then another. Something with soft fabric. Something layered. Something Jisung insists would look "really good for lounging." Minho doesn't argue as much anymore. He just... keeps picking things up. Carefully. Like this matters. Because it does.

Eventually, they end up with a small stack-four outfits, a set of tiny pajamas, and a couple pairs of shoes that Minho stares at for a long second before grabbing anyway.

"...You don't even wear shoes half the time normally," he points out.

"I might start now," Jisung says.

"You're three inches tall."

"And stylish."

Minho huffs. They stand there for a second, the absurdity of it settling in around them.

Then Minho looks down at the pile in his hands. "...This is the most ridiculous thing I think I have ever had to do."

Jisung tilts his head, looking up at him from the bag. "You once danced in a giraffe outfit."

Minho pauses. "...Yeah."

A beat.

"And somehow," he adds flatly, "that was more normal than buying Barbie clothes for my tiny boyfriend."

Jisung snorts.

Minho shakes his head, already turning toward the checkout. "...Unbelievable."

But his grip on the clothes is careful. Secure. And when he absentmindedly adjusts the bag on his chest again, it's not out of embarrassment-
It's to make sure Jisung is still right there.

By the time they get back, Minho feels like he's lived an entire week in one day. The door shuts behind them with a quiet click, and for a second he just stands there, exhaling, one hand still gripping the strap of the bag like he forgot how to let go.

"...Okay."

Jisung pops his head out immediately. "Okay."

Minho glances down at him. "...You're still small."

"Unfortunately."

Minho sighs. "Yeah. Just checking."

He heads straight for the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter before carefully reaching in and lifting Jisung out again.

Jisung stretches the second his feet hit the surface, arms up over his head. "Freedom."

"You were not imprisoned," Minho mutters, already moving toward the fridge.

"Debatable."

Minho pulls out ingredients, setting them down with practiced ease-but his eyes keep flicking back, checking, always checking. Jisung, meanwhile, is already dragging the tiny shopping bag closer, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Okay, wait-look at this one first."

Minho glances over his shoulder just in time to see Jisung wrestling with a sleeve that is, admittedly, still a little big even at doll scale. "...Do you need help?" Minho asks.

"I've got it," Jisung insists, determined, finally managing to pull the hoodie on.

He straightens, smoothing it down proudly. "...Well?"

Minho pauses mid-chop. Looks. Actually looks. The tiny black hoodie hangs just right, slightly oversized, sleeves bunching at Jisung's wrists.

Minho's expression softens without permission. "...It's cute."

Jisung lights up. "I knew it!"

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late."

Minho shakes his head, turning back to the stove, but there's something lighter in his shoulders now. Less tight. Behind him, Jisung continues. Outfit after outfit. A soft long-sleeve. A layered look he struggles into but refuses help with. The ridiculous crop top that Minho absolutely did not approve of but somehow still ended up in the bag.

"Min," Jisung calls.

"No."

"You haven't even looked yet."

"I know which one it is."

"Just look."

Minho exhales, already bracing himself as he turns-
-and immediately regrets it. Jisung stands there, hands on his hips, wearing the tiny crop top like he's on a runway.

"...Absolutely not."

Jisung grins. "You said it's normal."

"I said nothing of the sort."

"You bought it."

"I was pressured."

"By who?"

Minho points at him with the knife-not threatening, just accusatory. "You."

Jisung laughs, spinning slightly like he's modeling it. "Be honest, though."

"I am being honest. Take it off."

"That's not what I asked."

Minho turns back to the stove, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

But there's a faint flush at the back of his neck now. Jisung notices.

"Mm," he hums, pleased, already moving on to the next outfit.

By the time Minho finishes cooking, Jisung has gone through everything-pajamas included-and is currently sitting on the counter in the softest set, looking very pleased with himself.
"...Okay, this one wins," Jisung declares.

Minho plates the food, then pauses, glancing at him.

"...Yeah," he says quietly. "That one's good."

Jisung smiles, softer this time. Minho moves closer, crouching slightly as he sets a small portion aside, breaking it down automatically into pieces small enough for him.

Jisung watches his hands. "...You're getting really good at that."

Minho doesn't look up. "I have to."

There's no frustration in it now. Just fact. Jisung leans forward, taking the first bite from his fingers again, easy and familiar. Minho watches him eat. Still worried. Still thinking. But calmer now. Present.

"...We'll figure this out," Minho says after a second.

Jisung nods, chewing. "I know."

A beat.
Then-
Jisung glances down at his outfit, then back up.

"...Do I get to keep these after I'm normal again?"

Minho snorts. "...We'll see."

Jisung grins.

Minho sets his phone on the counter and taps it onto speaker while Jisung is mid-bite, legs stretched out, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who currently fits inside a hoodie pocket. Chan picks up on the second ring.

"Please tell me you didn't actually buy him clothes."

Minho doesn't even hesitate. "I bought him clothes."

A pause. "...Of course you did."

Jisung leans toward the phone, mouth still half full. "They're cute."

"I'm sure they are," Chan says dryly. "Any change?"

"No," Minho answers, breaking off another piece of food and handing it over. "Still tiny. Still eating like he's not."

"I told you that part doesn't make sense."

"Nothing about this makes sense."

Chan hums thoughtfully on the other end. "Okay. I've been thinking-this might not be physical."

Minho frowns. "He's physically small, Chan."

"I know, I know, but I mean the cause. Like... something triggered it."

Jisung swallows, then perks up a little. "Like what, a curse?"

"...Let's not jump to curses yet," Chan says.

"Okay but if it is, I'd like to know early."

Minho sighs. "Just-ask whatever you're going to ask."

Chan shifts, papers rustling faintly. "Alright. Hannie-did you skip any YouTube ads that said something like 'this will change your life'?"

Jisung looks offended. "No. I pay for my subscription, silly."

Minho snorts quietly.

"Okay, okay," Chan says. "Did you press any buttons you weren't supposed to? Like a 'do not touch' situation?"

Jisung shakes his head immediately. "That's more of a Hyunjin thing than a me thing."

"...Fair," Chan admits.

Minho glances down at Jisung, brows slightly furrowed. "Anything weird at all? Yesterday? Last night?"

Jisung thinks, chewing slowly this time. "...Hmm."

Minho watches him. Chan waits.

Jisung blinks. "...Oh."

Minho straightens slightly. "What?"

Jisung points vaguely with the tiny piece of food in his hand. "I downloaded an app."

Minho's entire posture changes. "What app?"

"Just like... a self-help thing?"

Chan immediately leans in on his end. "What kind of self-help thing?"

Jisung squints, trying to remember. "It said it would make me feel... small and unburdened."

Silence. Minho stares. Chan goes very still.

"...You're kidding," Minho says flatly.

"I mean-" Jisung looks down at himself, then back up. "Technically it worked."

Minho is already moving. "Where is your phone?"

"Probably-uh-bedroom? Or the couch? I don't know, I'm small, I don't have object permanence right now."

Minho is gone before he finishes the sentence, footsteps quick and sharp as he disappears down the hall.

Chan lets out a quiet, incredulous laugh through the speaker. "You downloaded a random app."

"It had good reviews!"

"That's what they all say!"

Minho comes back a minute later, Jisung's phone in hand, already unlocking it. "Which one," he demands.

Jisung leans forward, peering. "Uh-purple icon? Little sparkles?"

Minho finds it immediately. "...'Unburden: Become Your Lightest Self,'" he reads flatly.

Chan groans. "Oh no."

Minho taps it open. The screen loads.
And then-
He freezes.

"...You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" Chan asks.

Minho turns the phone slightly so Jisung can see. Jisung leans in.

On the screen, in soft pastel font:
Step 1 Complete: Feel Small ✔️
To return to your full self, complete the following Growth Tasks:

Minho scrolls. His expression gets worse. "...No."

"What does it say," Chan presses.

Minho reads, voice tight. "Task one: Compliment a stranger."

Jisung makes a face immediately. "Absolutely not."

Minho keeps going. "Task two: Share something vulnerable with someone you trust."

Jisung squints. "That's... less bad."

"Task three," Minho continues, "perform an act of kindness without expecting anything in return."

There's a pause.

Chan exhales slowly. "...Okay."

Minho lowers the phone slightly, staring at it like it personally offended him. "This is insane."

Jisung leans back, processing. "...So I just have to do those things and I go back to normal?"

"That's what it looks like," Chan says. "It's like... gamified self-help."

Minho looks deeply unimpressed. "I hate it."

"I didn't know it would literally shrink me!" Jisung defends.

Minho points at the phone. "It said 'feel small!'"

"I thought it meant emotionally!"

Chan snorts.

Minho drags a hand down his face. "Unbelievable."

There's a beat. Then Jisung yawns. Fully. Stretching his arms over his head, like this has been a long, exhausting day-which, to be fair, it has. "...Can we start tomorrow?"

Minho stares at him.

"Tomorrow," Jisung repeats, already blinking slower. "I'm tired. I got shrunk today. That's a lot."

Chan laughs softly through the phone. "He's got a point."

Minho looks between the app-
Jisung-
-the absolute absurdity of his life right now-
...and exhales.

"...Fine."

Jisung smiles, satisfied, already settling down on the counter in his tiny pajamas. "Tomorrow," he mumbles.

Minho shakes his head, reaching over to gently nudge him away from the edge before he can drift off completely. "...We're fixing this first thing."

Jisung hums sleepily. "Yeah, yeah."

Chan's voice comes through softer now. "I'll keep looking into it too. Just in case."

Minho nods, even though he can't see him. "Yeah."

He ends the call. And for a moment, just stands there-
Looking down at his impossibly small, impossibly normal boyfriend, already half-asleep on the counter.

"...Unbelievable," he mutters again.

But when he reaches down to pick him up-
It's careful. Minho carries him like something fragile. Not tight-never tight-but close, his hand curved just enough to keep Jisung steady as he walks them back to the bedroom. The lights are softer here, familiar, grounding in a way the rest of the day hasn't been.

He sets Jisung down on the bed. Gently. Right in the middle, like before. Then he just... stands there. Looking. At the bed. At the pillows. At the blankets. Like he's trying to map out every possible way this could go wrong. Jisung watches him, already sitting cross-legged, hair a little messy, eyes heavy with sleep.

"...Min."

Minho doesn't answer. He runs a hand through his hair instead, pacing once at the edge of the bed. "This is a bad idea."

"Just come to bed," Jisung whines.

Minho stops. "I can't."

Jisung frowns. "Why not."

"I can't risk squishing you," Minho says immediately, like it's obvious. "I move in my sleep. What if I roll over? What if-"

"Min."

"No, listen-what if I don't realize you're there and I just-"

"Minho."

He finally looks at him.

Jisung lets out a loud, exaggerated whine, flopping back dramatically before wiggling his arms in the air-exactly like he does when he's normal-sized, just... smaller. It would almost be funny if it didn't make Minho's chest ache.

"Just come lay down," Jisung complains. "I trust you. I'll sleep on the pillow beside you."

Minho's jaw tightens immediately. "That's not the point."

"It is the point," Jisung insists, sitting back up. "I'm not scared."

"I am."

The words come out quieter than everything else. Jisung pauses. Minho looks away again, staring at the bed like it's a problem he can't solve.

"...I can't mess this up," he says, low. "Not with you like this."

Jisung's expression softens. He stands, walking a few small steps closer-each one careful, but steady. "Hey," he says gently.

Minho looks back. Jisung reaches out, placing both tiny hands against the side of his finger.

"You're not going to mess it up."

Minho exhales, but it doesn't quite ease the tension. "You don't know that."

"I do," Jisung says simply. "Because it's you."

There's no hesitation in it. No doubt. Just... certainty. Minho stares at him for a second. Then crouches down slowly, bringing himself closer to the bed, closer to him.

"...You're sleeping on the pillow," he says finally. "Right next to me."

Jisung nods immediately. "Deal."

"And I'm not using the blanket."

"That's dramatic."

"I'm serious."

Jisung huffs. "Fine. But you're going to be cold."

"I'll survive."

Jisung studies him, then smiles a little. "You're cute when you're worried."

"I'm not cute."

"You are."

Minho rolls his eyes, but the edge is gone now. Carefully, he lifts Jisung again, placing him on the pillow-adjusting it, flattening it slightly so there are no dips, no folds, nothing that could hide him.
Jisung settles in easily, already curling slightly on his side.

"...See?" he murmurs. "Perfect."

Minho watches him for a second longer. Then slowly, cautiously, he lays down beside him. Every movement controlled. Measured. Like he's afraid the air itself might shift too hard. He keeps a small space between them at first.

Jisung notices immediately. "...Min."

"I'm here."

"Closer."

"I am close."

"You're not."

Minho exhales. Then-slowly-he shifts. Closing the distance just enough that his face is near the pillow, near Jisung. Close enough.

Jisung smiles, satisfied, eyes already drifting shut. "...Told you," he mumbles.

Minho watches him. Really watches him. The steady rise and fall of his tiny chest. The way he curls into the pillow. The familiarity of it, even like this.

"...We're fixing this tomorrow," Minho says quietly.

Jisung hums, half-asleep. "Yeah."

A pause.
Then, softer-
"I love you."

Minho's expression flickers. "...I love you too."

He doesn't move after that. Doesn't dare. He just stays there, awake longer than he should be-
watching. Making sure Jisung is still right there.

Minho wakes slowly. Not to an alarm. Not to noise. To something soft. So light he almost misses it. A tiny press-barely there-right against the center of his forehead. His brows knit faintly, still caught between sleep and waking, until it happens again. A second little kiss.

Minho exhales, eyes fluttering open.

The room is quiet, early morning light spilling in soft through the curtains. For a split second, everything feels normal- Then he focuses. Jisung is right there. Standing on the pillow, balanced near his face, hands braced lightly against Minho's skin for stability. Looking very awake. Very determined.

"...What are you doing," Minho mumbles, voice rough with sleep.

Jisung grins. "Good morning."

Minho blinks at him, still processing, then glances around instinctively-checking-before settling back on him. "...You're still small."

"Still small," Jisung confirms cheerfully.

Minho groans quietly, dragging a hand over his face. "I was hoping that was a weird dream."

"Nope."

Another pause. Then Jisung leans forward and presses one more tiny kiss to his forehead. This one a little more deliberate.

Minho goes still. "...Okay," he mutters. "What was that?"

Jisung pulls back, entirely pleased with himself. "Motivation."

"For what."

Jisung straightens up, crossing his arms like he's about to present a plan. "For this."

Minho squints at him. Then it clicks. "The app."

"The app," Jisung echoes. "We've got three tasks. We're doing them today."

Minho pushes himself up slightly on one elbow, careful not to jostle the pillow too much. "You said you wanted to start tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow."

Minho pauses. "...Right."

Jisung nods, energized in a way that feels very Jisung. "Step one: compliment a stranger."

Minho immediately makes a face. "That's the worst one."

"I know."

"You hate talking to strangers."

"I do," Jisung agrees. "But I also hate being fun-sized."

Minho huffs quietly.

Jisung paces a few tiny steps across the pillow, hands on his hips. "Then we've got vulnerability-which, honestly, I'm already doing great at-and then kindness. Easy."

Minho watches him, something softer creeping into his expression despite everything. "...You're serious."

"Very."

Minho shifts a little closer, resting his cheek against the pillow so he's level with him. "...You woke me up with a forehead kiss to announce your self-improvement arc."
Jisung grins. "Exactly."

Minho shakes his head, but there's a hint of a smile now. "Unbelievable."

Jisung leans forward slightly, poking his cheek. "Get up. We've got things to do."

Minho catches his tiny hand gently between his fingers before he can pull away. Jisung stills. Minho studies him for a second-awake, determined, still so small it makes his chest tighten-

"...We'll do it together," Minho says quietly.

Jisung's expression softens just a little. Then he nods. "Yeah."

Minho releases his hand carefully, pushing himself up fully now. "Alright," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "Let's go find you a stranger."

Jisung perks up immediately.

"After breakfast," he adds quickly.

Minho snorts. "Of course."

Jisung beams. Minho moves carefully out of bed, one hand already cupped around Jisung like it's second nature now.

"Kitchen," he mutters, still waking up.

"Kitchen," Jisung agrees, fully awake and already scanning ahead like he's planning something.

The moment Minho sets him down on the counter, Jisung stretches again, then points decisively.

"Bacon."

Minho opens the fridge. "...Good morning to you too."

"I said good morning already."

"With a forehead kiss, not words."

"Same thing."

Minho huffs, but pulls the bacon out anyway. "You're demanding for someone who fits in a pocket."

"I have big needs."

"You're three inches tall."

"Still."

Minho shakes his head, already getting the pan heating, movements automatic. Behind him, Jisung looks around, then-

"Hey."

Minho hums distractedly.

"I need hot water."

"For what?"

Jisung gestures vaguely at himself. "To wash."

Minho pauses mid-motion. "...You what?"

"My hair. My face. My-" he waves his hands again, "-bits."

Minho freezes. Slowly turns his head. "...Don't say it like that."

Jisung blinks. "Like what?"

"Like that."

"It's accurate."

Minho grimaces. "I don't like hearing you say 'bits' when you're this small."

Jisung rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, shut up and get me the glass."

Minho stares at him for a second longer-
Then sighs, defeated. "...Unbelievable."

But he grabs a shot glass anyway, filling it carefully with warm water, testing it with his finger before setting it down near Jisung.

"Not too hot," he mutters.

"I trust you," Jisung says easily.

Minho shoots him a look at that-but doesn't argue. He goes back to cooking, flipping bacon, cracking eggs, trying to focus on something normal while, out of the corner of his eye, he watches Jisung kneel beside the shot glass like it's a full bath.

Jisung dips his hands in first, testing, then starts carefully splashing water up, running it through his hair, wiping his face. It's... bizarre. And somehow completely Jisung at the same time. Minho glances over again. Jisung is humming to himself, focused, methodical in a way Minho doesn't usually see from him.

"...You're taking this very seriously," Minho mutters.

"I like being clean," Jisung replies, like that's obvious.

Minho snorts quietly, turning back to the stove.

By the time the bacon is done, Jisung is stepping back from the glass, shaking his hands out slightly, hair damp but neat enough.

"Okay," he says, satisfied. "Next."

Minho glances over.

"...Next?"

"Outfit change."

Minho doesn't even question it anymore. He just watches as Jisung digs into the tiny pile of clothes they brought in, pulling out one of the outfits-layered, neat, put together. There's a bit of a struggle. Sleeves. Balance. Shoes that require way more effort than they should.

Minho steps closer at one point. "Do you-"

"I've got it," Jisung insists, determined.

And he does. Eventually. He straightens up, adjusting the tiny jacket, then carefully slips on the shoes, pressing his foot down until they sit just right. Then he looks up.

"...Well?"

Minho leans against the counter slightly, arms crossing as he takes him in. Clean. Dressed. Shoes and all. Ready.

"...You look like you're about to go to a business meeting," Minho says.

Jisung grins. "I'm about to compliment a stranger."

Minho huffs a quiet laugh. "...Right."

He plates the food, then crouches slightly, breaking off pieces again out of habit. Jisung walks over without being asked this time, settling in front of him. Minho leans against the counter, plate in one hand, the other carefully breaking off pieces for Jisung like it's second nature now. Jisung sits in front of him, legs stretched out, fully dressed, freshly "showered," and somehow looking more put together than Minho does.

"This is good," Jisung says, taking another bite of bacon.

"Of course it is."

Jisung hums. "You should make bacon more often."

"I literally do."

"Not enough."

Minho rolls his eyes, but there's no bite to it. There's a beat where they just... eat. Quiet. Easy.
Then-

Minho glances down at him. "...So."

Jisung looks up, already knowing. "So."

"...Who are we subjecting to this."

Jisung grins immediately. "A stranger."

"Yes, I gathered that," Minho says dryly. "I meant which stranger."

Jisung taps his fingers against his knee, thinking. "Someone nice."

"That narrows it down."

"Someone approachable."

"You're going to be in a bag," Minho points out. "They're not going to know you exist."

Jisung pauses. "...Right."

Minho nods. "Exactly."

Jisung tilts his head, processing. "Okay, so you'll just... open the bag a little."

"And then what?" Minho asks. "I let you lean out and verbally assault some random person?"

"It's not assault, it's a compliment."

"They don't know that."

Jisung snorts. "You're being dramatic."

Minho stares at him. "A three-inch man popping out of a bag to talk to them is not not dramatic."

"...Okay, fair," Jisung admits.

They both go quiet for a second.

Then Jisung brightens again. "Coffee shop."

Minho raises a brow. "Why a coffee shop?"

"Because people there are already used to weird things," Jisung says confidently. "And baristas are usually nice."

Minho considers that. "...You're not wrong."

"And," Jisung continues, "we can get coffee after. Win-win."

Minho huffs. "You just want a latte."

"I do want a latte."

"You can't even hold a cup."

"I'll adapt."

Minho shakes his head, but he's already giving in. "...Okay. Coffee shop."

Jisung beams. "Perfect."

Minho breaks off another piece, handing it over. "You're doing the talking."

"Obviously."

"And if they scream-"

"They won't scream."

"They might scream."

"They won't scream."

Minho narrows his eyes. "If they scream, we're leaving immediately."

Jisung laughs. "Deal."

Minho exhales, glancing down at him again-small, dressed, completely serious about this. "...This is insane," he mutters.

Jisung tilts his head. "Yeah."
A beat.
Then he smiles, softer this time.
"But we've got this."

Minho watches him for a second. Then nods once. "...We've got this."

He reaches over, gently brushing a crumb off Jisung's sleeve. "Finish eating," he says. "We're going to go traumatize a barista."

Jisung grins.

Once breakfast is done, Minho is already reaching for him again out of habit-
-and Jisung immediately holds up a hand.

"Stop."

Minho pauses mid-motion. "...What."

"I need you to go shower."

Minho blinks. "I'm not leaving you alone."

"I'll be fine."

"You are the size of my phone."

"And yet I survived while you made breakfast."

"That was supervised."

Jisung gives him a look. "Minho."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Jisung crosses his arms. "You smell like bacon."

Minho freezes. "...Rude."

"Accurate."

Minho narrows his eyes.

Jisung leans forward slightly. "Go shower. I'll stay right here. I won't move. I won't climb anything. I won't even-" he gestures dramatically, "-explore."

Minho hesitates. Looks at him. Looks around the room. Back at him.

"...You'll stay on the bed," he says finally.

"I will stay on the bed."

"You don't go near the edge."

"I won't go near the edge."

"You don't-"

"Minho," Jisung interrupts, exasperated. "Go."

Minho exhales sharply through his nose, pointing at him. "If you disappear-"

"I won't disappear."

Minho glares one last time-
Then reluctantly moves Jisung to the bedroom before turning and heading for the bathroom.

He showers fast. Faster than usual. Like if he takes too long something will go wrong. By the time he steps back into the bedroom, towel around his neck, hair still damp-
He stops. Jisung is exactly where he left him. Leaning against Minho's phone. Playing solitaire.

Minho stares. "...That thing is literally the size of you."

Jisung doesn't even look up. "Yeah, and I'm winning, so mind your business."

Minho blinks. Then slowly walks closer, leaning over the bed to get a better look. Jisung is fully focused, tapping the screen with both hands, moving cards around with surprising precision.

"...How are you even-"

"Adaptation," Jisung mutters, still not looking at him. "Also your phone is very responsive."

Minho shakes his head, a small, disbelieving huff leaving him as he moves to his dresser. "Unbelievable."

Jisung hums in response, dragging a card into place. "You love me."

"That's not the point."

"It's always the point."

Minho pulls on clothes, glancing back every few seconds despite himself. Jisung shifts, concentrating, then-

"...Yes," he whispers, triumphant.

Minho looks over. "Did you just win?"

Jisung finally looks up, grinning. "I did."

Minho rolls his eyes, but there's a faint smile tugging at his mouth now. "...Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Minho finishes getting dressed, then steps closer, crouching slightly as he reaches out his hand. Jisung stands without hesitation, stepping onto his palm like it's routine now.

"...Ready?" Minho asks.

Jisung nods, energized again. "Ready."

Minho studies him for a second-tiny, confident, completely serious about this-
Then nods back.

"Alright," he mutters. "Let's go find your victim."

Minho grabs the bag without even thinking about it now. It's already become routine-unzip, check the lining, adjust it so it sits just right.

"Alright," he mutters, holding his hand out.

Jisung steps on easily, balancing himself against Minho's fingers. "You're getting efficient at this."

"I have to be."

"You like it."

"I don't."

"You do."

Minho gives him a look. "Get in the bag."

Jisung grins but lets himself be lowered in, settling into the soft lining. He shifts around a little, getting comfortable, then props his arms on the edge again so he can peek out. "Good view," he announces. Minho zips it just enough to keep him secure, then adjusts the strap across his chest, one hand instinctively coming up to steady it.

"...Don't lean too far," he says automatically.

"I won't fall."

"You might."

"I won't."

Minho exhales. "Just-be careful."

Jisung softens a little at that, nodding. "Okay."

Minho gives the bag one last check-
Then heads out.

The walk is quieter than usual. Not silent-there's the hum of the city, passing cars, distant voices-but between them, it's calm. Minho keeps one hand near the bag the entire time. Not gripping it.
Just there. Ready. Jisung watches everything.

From his little opening, the world looks... huge. Sidewalk cracks like trenches, people like moving walls, everything louder, bigger, faster. "...This is wild," he murmurs.

Minho glances down slightly. "What?"

"Everything's so big."

"You're just small."

"Yeah, but it's different seeing it like this."

Minho hums, adjusting the strap again as they walk.

Jisung leans forward a little-not too far, just enough to see more. "Hey," he says after a second.

Minho looks down. "What?"

"...Thanks."

Minho frowns slightly. "For what?"

Jisung shrugs, resting his chin on his arms. "For not freaking out too much."

Minho lets out a quiet scoff. "I am freaking out."

"Yeah, but like... in a useful way."

Minho glances away, jaw shifting slightly. "...Someone has to."

Jisung smiles faintly, then looks ahead again. "...Okay," he says after a moment, voice picking back up. "Game plan."

Minho sighs. "Here we go."

"We go in," Jisung says, gesturing like Minho can see it. "You order. Then you casually open the bag-"

"There is nothing casual about that."

"-and I compliment the barista."

Minho shakes his head. "They're going to think I'm insane."

"They'll think I'm insane."

"They won't even know you exist until you start talking."

"Exactly. Memorable."

Minho exhales. "I hate this."

Jisung grins. "You love me."

Minho doesn't answer that. But his hand comes up again, adjusting the bag just slightly-making sure Jisung is steady, visible, safe.

"...We're here," he says after a moment.

Jisung perks up immediately, peeking out more carefully now. "Alright," he says, determined.

Minho hesitates just outside the door. One breath. Two. "...This is insane," he mutters.

Jisung nods. "Yeah."
A beat.
Then-
"Let's do it."

The second Minho steps inside, he regrets everything. The smell of coffee hits first, warm and familiar-usually comforting. Not today. Today it just feels like a stage. Too many people. Too many eyes. Too many ways this could go horribly wrong.

"...We can still leave," Minho mutters under his breath.

From the bag: "No."

Minho exhales. Of course not.

They step up to the counter. The barista looks normal. Completely normal. Early twenties, tired but polite smile, hair pulled back, apron dusted with flour or coffee grounds.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" she asks.

Minho stares at her for half a second too long. "...Uh. Two iced lattes." His voice is a little stiff. A little too careful.

She nods, already tapping it in. "Anything else?"

Minho hesitates. This is it. He can feel Jisung shifting slightly in the bag.

"...No," he says quickly.

Then, quieter-

"...Actually-hold on."

The barista looks up again, confused but patient. Minho's hand comes up to the zipper. He pauses. This is insane. This is actually insane.

"...Min," Jisung whispers.

Minho exhales. And unzips the bag just a little more. At first, nothing happens. Then-
Jisung leans up, resting his arms on the edge, peeking out.

The barista blinks. Once. Twice. Her brain very clearly trying to process what she's looking at.

Jisung smiles. "Hi."

There is a long, heavy silence. Minho can feel the moment her reality breaks. Her eyes widen. Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"...What-"

Jisung lifts a hand, giving a small wave like this is completely normal. "I just wanted to say," he continues, voice bright and genuine, "your hair looks really nice today."

Silence. Minho stares straight ahead, already dissociating.

The barista stares at Jisung. At the bag. At Minho. Back to Jisung. Her brain is doing everything it can to catch up.

"...I-" She swallows. "...thank you?" It comes out uncertain. Soft. Like she's afraid responding might make it more real.

Jisung beams. "You're welcome!"

Another pause. Then she slowly, very carefully, looks back at the register.

"...Two iced lattes," she repeats, voice just slightly shaken.

"Yeah," Minho says quickly. "Yeah, that's-yeah."

She nods, turning to start the drinks like if she focuses hard enough on normal tasks, this entire interaction will disappear. Minho immediately zips the bag back up halfway.

"...Oh my god," he mutters under his breath.

Jisung drops back into the lining, grinning. "That went great."

"That did not go great."

"She didn't scream."

"That is the lowest possible bar."

"And we cleared it."

Minho drags a hand down his face.

Behind the counter, the barista sneaks another glance over. Then another. Still very clearly not okay.

"...We're never coming back here," Minho whispers.

"Yes we are," Jisung says immediately. "She was nice."

"She was confused."

"She said thank you."

Minho groans quietly.

A few minutes later, the drinks are set on the counter. The barista doesn't make eye contact this time.

"Have a good day," she says, voice careful.

"You too," Minho replies quickly, grabbing the drinks.

He turns and walks out immediately. The second they're outside-
He exhales hard.

"...That was horrible."

Jisung pops his head back up, entirely pleased. "That was step one."

Minho stares at him. "...We're actually doing this."

Jisung grins. "One down."

They barely make it half a block before-
"Stop."

Minho keeps walking. "...No."

"Min."

"No."

"Minho."

He sighs, slowing anyway. "We just left."

"I know. I want to try it."

"You cannot 'try it' while I'm walking."

Jisung leans further out of the bag, eyes locked on the cup in Minho's hand. "Please."

Minho stops. Looks down at him. Then at the drinks. Then back at him. "...Unbelievable." But he scans the area anyway, spotting a bench tucked a little off to the side, out of the main flow of people. "Fine."
He walks over, sitting down carefully, setting the drinks beside him before immediately reaching for the zipper. "Don't lean," he mutters as he opens it.

"I won't lean."

"You will lean."

"I won't fall."

Minho gives him a look. Then gently lifts him out, setting him on the bench beside the cup, one hand hovering close just in case. Jisung immediately walks up to the iced latte like it's a full event.

"...Wow," he says, peering up at it. "This is huge."

"It's a normal cup."

"It's a giant cup."

Minho pops the lid slightly, angling it just enough. "Okay," he says. "Careful."

Jisung leans forward, gripping the edge with both hands-
-and takes a sip. He freezes. Then his whole face lights up. "Oh my god."

Minho huffs a quiet laugh. "Good?"

"That's so good," Jisung says immediately, taking another tiny sip. "Why is it better like this?"

"Because you're dramatic."

"I'm experiencing it on a deeper level."

Minho shakes his head, but he's smiling now. He adjusts the cup slightly so it's easier for him, staying close, ready to catch him if he slips. Jisung takes another sip, then steps back, satisfied.

"...Okay," he says, energized again. "Step two."

Minho leans back slightly. "Already?"

"Yeah. Momentum."

Minho exhales. "Right. Vulnerability."

Jisung nods. "Share something vulnerable with someone you trust."

They both go quiet for a second.

Minho glances at him. "...So. Who."

Jisung tilts his head, thinking. "Chan's the obvious choice."

"Yeah," Minho agrees. "But you already talked to him this morning."

"Yeah, but not... like that."

Minho considers it. "We could call him."

Jisung makes a face. "That feels too easy."

"It is easy," Minho says. "That's the point."

Jisung shakes his head. "No, I think it has to feel... real."

Minho watches him, expression shifting slightly. "...What about me."

Jisung pauses. Looks at him. "...You?"

Minho shrugs, a little awkward. "You trust me."

Jisung huffs a small laugh. "Obviously."

"Then it counts."

Jisung studies him for a second. Then glances down at his hands. "...Yeah," he says quietly. "It does."

There's a beat. The city hums around them, distant now. Minho shifts slightly closer on the bench, resting his arm along the back behind him, creating a small barrier around Jisung without even thinking about it.

"...Okay," he says. "So what's the plan?"

Jisung exhales, then looks back up. "...I have to tell you something real."

Minho nods once. "Yeah."

Jisung fidgets slightly, then steps a little closer to him on the bench. "...Give me a second."

Minho doesn't rush him. Doesn't interrupt. He just stays there. Close. Waiting. Ready.

Jisung doesn't start right away. He stands there on the bench, shifting his weight, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his tiny jacket like he needs something to hold onto. Minho... watches. Close enough to catch him if he slips, but quiet. Patient.

"...Okay," Jisung says finally, more to himself than anything.

Minho's voice is softer now. "Take your time."

Jisung huffs a small breath, then looks up at him.

"...I think," he starts, then stops. Swallows. Tries again. "I think I need you more than I let on."

Minho's expression stills.

Jisung lets out a quiet, nervous laugh. "Like-not in a cute way. Not in a 'oh, I just like being around you' way." He shakes his head. "I mean... real. Uncomfortable. I-need-you kind of way."

Minho doesn't interrupt. Doesn't move. Jisung keeps going, words coming a little faster now, like if he stops he won't be able to start again.

"I've always-" he gestures vaguely, frustrated at himself. "I built this whole thing, you know? Like... I'm independent, I'm fine on my own, I can handle anything." He looks down at his hands. "Unshakable. That's what I wanted to be." A pause. "...But it's not true."

Minho's chest tightens. Jisung exhales, shoulders dropping just slightly.

"A lot of that is just... a front," he admits. "And I think you're the only person who actually sees through it." He looks back up. "And you're also the one who..." he trails off, searching for the words. "You're what keeps me steady."

Minho's hand shifts on the bench, fingers curling slightly.

"Like-when everything gets loud in my head, or too much, or I start spiraling..." Jisung swallows. "You're the thing that pulls me back." His voice gets quieter. "And that scares me."

Minho's brows pull together, just slightly.

Jisung laughs again, softer this time. "Because if something ever happened-if you weren't there-I don't know what I'd do."

There's a long pause. The air feels heavier now. Still. Jisung looks down again, then forces himself to keep going.

"...When I ran away a few years ago," he says quietly, "I didn't think anyone would come after me."

Minho's breath catches.

"I didn't think anyone would notice right away. Or care enough to look." Jisung's voice wavers just a little-but he pushes through it. "But you did."

Minho's hand tightens against the bench.

"You were the first one there," Jisung says. "You found me before anyone else even knew where to start." He looks up again, eyes a little brighter now, but steady. "And you didn't-" he exhales shakily. "You didn't yell. You didn't make it worse. You just... stayed."

Minho doesn't blink.

"You stayed with me," Jisung continues. "Until I could breathe again. Until everything stopped feeling so... heavy."

Another pause. Jisung's voice drops, almost a whisper now.

"If it wasn't for you..." He swallows hard. "...I don't think I'd still be here."

The words hang there. Heavy. Real. No room to soften them.

"I probably would've-" he stops, shakes his head slightly. "I was really close, Min."

Minho's chest feels tight. Too tight. Jisung takes a shaky breath.

"And that's what I mean," he says quietly. "You're not just... someone I love. You're the reason I'm still here."

Silence. Jisung looks at him, vulnerable in a way he almost never lets himself be.

"...So yeah," he finishes, voice small but honest. "I need you."

Minho doesn't respond right away. He can't. He just looks at him-
tiny, standing there, saying something that big-
and something in his chest cracks open.

Slowly, carefully, Minho shifts closer, lowering himself until he's level with him again. His hand comes up, hovering for a second-
then gently cups around Jisung, not lifting him yet. Just... there. Grounding.

"...Hey," Minho says quietly.

Jisung looks up.

Minho's voice is steady, even if everything else isn't. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Jisung's breath hitches slightly.

Minho's thumb brushes lightly against his side-gentle, grounding, real. "Not ever."

There's a pause.
Then, softer-
"And I'm not going anywhere."

Jisung's shoulders finally relax-just a little. Minho exhales slowly, like he's been holding it the entire time.

"...You're allowed to need me," he adds.

Jisung nods. Small. But certain. And for a moment-
everything else fades. No app. No tasks. Just that.

Minho stays there for a second longer, hand still curved protectively around him, like he's afraid if he lets go too fast the moment will slip through his fingers. His chest feels tight. Full. Too many things at once.

"...That's not fair," he mutters.

Jisung blinks up at him. "What."

Minho exhales, shaking his head slightly. "You say something like that and you're-" he gestures vaguely, frustrated, "-tiny."

Jisung lets out a soft, watery laugh, scrubbing quickly at under his eye. "Sorry?"

"I really need to kiss you right now," Minho says flatly.

Jisung pauses-
Then immediately leans back a little and makes the most exaggerated kissy face possible, lips puckered, eyes squinted, whole body committing to it.

Minho stares. "...Yeah," he says after a beat, unimpressed. "Not happening."

Jisung snorts. "Rude."

"Not until you grow," Minho adds, shaking his head.

"Ugh, fine," Jisung says dramatically, dropping the expression and flopping back onto his hands. "Guess you'll just have to wait."

"Tragic."

"Devastating."

Minho huffs a quiet laugh, some of the weight easing just a little. Jisung pushes himself back up, rolling his shoulders like he's resetting.

"...Okay," he says, more focused now. "Step three."

Minho nods once. "Right. Kindness."

"An act of kindness," Jisung repeats. "No expectations."

They both go quiet again, thinking.

Minho glances around the street, watching people pass. "That one might actually be the easiest."

"Yeah," Jisung agrees. "We just have to... do something good."

Minho hums, considering. "Could buy someone coffee."

Jisung tilts his head. "That's a good one."

"Or help someone carry something," Minho adds. "Or-"

Jisung perks up slightly, eyes tracking something across the street. "Wait."

Minho follows his gaze. An older woman, struggling slightly with a couple of heavy grocery bags, shifting them awkwardly as she tries to adjust her grip.

Jisung looks back at him. "...That."

Minho nods immediately. "Yeah." He straightens, careful as always, hand coming back to the bag. "Alright," he says. "Let's go."

Jisung grins, energy back, determination settling in. "One good deed," he says.

Minho glances down at him, something softer in his expression now. "...One good deed."

Minho crosses the street without overthinking it. "Excuse me," he calls gently as he approaches, already reaching for one of the heavier bags. "Can I help you with those?"

The woman looks up, surprised at first-then relieved. "Oh-yes, thank you, that would be lovely."

Minho takes the weight easily, shifting the bags into a more comfortable hold. Jisung peeks out from the bag, watching.

"...We're doing it," he whispers.

Minho huffs quietly. "We're doing it."

As they walk, the woman chatters a little-about how the bags were heavier than she expected, about the store being busier than usual. Minho nods along, polite, steady, carrying everything like it's nothing.

Jisung looks down into one of the bags. "...Wait," he murmurs.

Minho glances down briefly. "What."

"There's like-small stuff in here," Jisung says, already reaching. "I can help."

Before Minho can argue, Jisung carefully leans down into the opening of the bag and grabs something small-a wrapped snack, light enough for him to manage. He holds it with both hands, bracing himself.

"...I've got this one," he says proudly.

Minho pauses. Then adjusts the bag slightly to make it easier for him, a small, almost automatic shift. "...Okay," he says.

They walk the rest of the way like that. Minho carrying most of the weight. Jisung holding his tiny contribution like it matters just as much.

When they reach her door, Minho sets the bags down carefully. "There you go," he says.

The woman smiles warmly. "Thank you, really. That was very kind of you."

Jisung straightens in the bag, beaming. "You're welcome!"

She doesn't hear him. But Minho does.

"...Have a good day," Minho says.

"You too, dear."

They step away, heading back down the sidewalk. There's a quiet beat. Jisung shifts, looking down at himself. Then up at Minho. "...Okay."

Minho glances down. "What."

"...Nothing happened."

Minho slows slightly.

Jisung looks at his hands, then his clothes-like maybe he missed it. "I thought-" he trails off. "I thought it would just... fix."

Minho stops walking. Carefully, he crouches a little, unzipping the bag more so he can see him clearly. Jisung looks... smaller somehow. Not physically. Just-
Deflated.

"...Hey," Minho says quietly.

Jisung huffs a small breath. "We did all three."

"I know."

"I complimented someone."

"I know."

"I told you something real."

Minho's expression softens immediately. "I know."

"And we helped her," Jisung adds, voice a little tighter now. "Like... we actually did it right."

Minho nods once. "We did."

Jisung looks down again. "...So why am I still like this?"

There's no answer for a second. Minho exhales slowly, then reaches in, gently lifting him out again, holding him steady in his palm.

"Hey," he says again, softer.

Jisung looks up. Minho's thumb brushes lightly against his side, grounding.

"We don't know that it didn't work," he says. "Maybe it just... takes a second."

Jisung frowns. "That feels like a cop-out."

"Maybe," Minho admits. "But we also don't fully understand how this thing works yet."

Jisung lets out a quiet sigh, shoulders slumping. Minho studies him for a second-
Then shifts his grip slightly, bringing him closer.

"...Let's go back," he says. "Call Chan again. Show him the app, everything."

Jisung hesitates. Then nods. "...Okay."

Minho gives him one last, gentle press of his thumb-reassuring-before tucking him back into the bag. "Hey," he adds as he stands.

Jisung looks up.

Minho's voice is steady. "You did everything right."

Jisung holds his gaze for a second. Then nods again, smaller this time. "...Okay."

Minho adjusts the strap, making sure he's secure-
-and turns back toward home.

The apartment door shuts behind them with a soft click. Minho moves straight to the couch, setting the bag down before unzipping it and gently lifting Jisung out.
He places him on the cushion, right in the middle. Jisung immediately flops back. Full pout. Arms crossed. Entire vibe dramatically ruined. Minho watches him for a second, then leans back against the arm of the couch.

"I thought you were enjoying being tiny," he says, a little teasing.

Jisung doesn't even look at him. "I was." A beat. "...But I miss affection."

Minho snorts. "You're impossible."

"Shut up."

Minho shakes his head, but there's something softer in it. He reaches over without thinking, gently nudging Jisung a little closer to him on the couch so he's not near the edge. Jisung doesn't protest. Doesn't move away. Just stays there, still pouting.

Minho pulls his phone out. "I'm calling Chan."

Jisung sighs. "Yeah."

The call connects quickly-video this time. Chan appears on screen, still in his studio, hair a little messier now, like he's been running his hands through it all day.

"Alright," he says immediately. "Update."

Minho angles the phone down so Jisung is visible on the couch.

"We did everything," Minho says. "All three tasks."

Chan's brows pull together. "Everything?"

Jisung sits up slightly. "Yeah. Complimented a barista-she didn't scream, by the way."

Chan huffs a quiet laugh. "That's a win."

"I told Minho something vulnerable," Jisung continues, glancing up at him briefly before looking back at the screen. "And we helped someone with groceries."

Minho nods. "All of it."

Chan leans back slightly, thinking. "...And nothing changed."

Minho shakes his head. "Nothing."

Jisung gestures at himself. "Still fun-sized."

Chan goes quiet, eyes flicking across the screen like he's trying to find something they missed. "That doesn't make sense," he murmurs. "If the app gave you clear steps and you followed them..."

Minho exhales. "That's what I said."

Chan runs a hand through his hair again. "Okay, wait-did the app update? Like, did it mark anything as completed?"

Minho grabs the phone again, pulling up the app quickly. "...It still says the tasks are there," he says, frowning. "No checkmarks. Nothing."

Jisung groans, dropping back onto the couch again. "That's so annoying."

Chan leans forward. "Then either-" He pauses. "...Either you didn't complete them the way it expects..."

"Or?" Minho presses.

Chan hesitates. "...Or the app isn't what caused it."

Silence.

Jisung sits up again slowly. "What?"

Chan shrugs slightly, uneasy. "I'm just saying-it could be coincidence. The timing lines up, but if the instructions aren't working..."

Minho's expression tightens. "Then what, this just... happened?"

"I don't know," Chan admits. "I'm trying to think of alternatives."

Jisung looks down at himself again, frowning deeper now. "That's worse."

"Yeah," Minho mutters.

Chan exhales. "Let me look at the app more closely. Maybe there's something hidden, or some condition you're missing."

Minho nods. "Yeah. Do that."

"I'll call you back," Chan says.

The call ends. The room goes quiet again.

Jisung flops back dramatically. "This sucks."

Minho watches him for a second. Then reaches over, very gently nudging him again-closer, until he's within reach.

"...Come here," Minho mutters.

Jisung glances up. Minho shifts, resting his arm along the couch beside him, creating a small space-safe, contained. Jisung crawls into it without hesitation. Still small. Still pouting. But closer. Minho exhales quietly.

"...We'll figure it out," he says.

Jisung presses his cheek lightly against his arm. "...You better."

Minho stays there for a minute. Just... letting Jisung sit tucked against his arm, small and warm and still a little pouty. Then he exhales and shifts.

"...You hungry?"

Jisung hums. "A little."

Minho nods. "I'll make something."

He starts to move-then pauses, already reaching for him out of instinct.

Jisung catches it immediately. "No."

Minho blinks. "...What?"

"I'm not going," Jisung says, settling more firmly into the couch cushion. "I want to stay here."

Minho frowns. "By yourself?"

"I'm not by myself," Jisung points out. "You're literally in the next room."

"That's not the same."

Jisung grabs the remote-well, climbs onto it a little and manages to press the button, the TV flickering on.

"I want to watch anime," he says simply.

Minho hesitates. Looks at him. Looks at the couch. Looks at the distance between here and the kitchen like it's suddenly too far.

"...Jisung."

"I'll stay right here," Jisung says, already scrolling through something. "I won't move. I won't go near the edge. I won't do anything stupid."

Minho narrows his eyes. "You always say that."

"And I always survive."

"That is not reassuring."

Jisung glances up at him, softer this time. "Min."

Minho exhales.

Jisung tilts his head. "I just want to sit here for a bit. Normally."

That-
That hits.

Minho's shoulders drop just slightly. "...Okay," he says finally.

Jisung smiles, small but real. "Okay."

Minho points at him. "You stay in the middle."

"I'll stay in the middle."

"You don't climb anything."

"I won't climb anything."

"You don't-"

"Minho," Jisung interrupts, exasperated but fond. "Go cook."

Minho huffs. But he backs off. Slowly. "...I'm checking on you," he mutters.

"Of course you are."

Minho lingers for one more second-
then turns and heads into the kitchen.

He doesn't go far. Doesn't close the distance completely. Just enough to start pulling things out, glancing back every few seconds. On the couch, Jisung gets comfortable, settling into the cushion, the TV lighting up his face as the anime starts. For a moment-
it almost feels normal. Just... quieter. Smaller.

The kitchen settles into a quiet rhythm. Pan heating. Soft sizzle. The low hum of the fridge. Something simple-nothing complicated, nothing that requires too much attention, because most of Minho's focus isn't on the food anyway. It's on the couch. Every few seconds, he glances over.

Jisung is still there, right where he promised he'd be-curled into the cushion, tiny against the fabric, eyes fixed on the screen. The glow of the TV flickers across his face, completely absorbed. Normal. As normal as this can be.

Minho exhales through his nose and turns back to the stove. Then-almost without thinking-he reaches for Jisung's phone. Just to check. Just in case.

He opens the app. The pastel screen loads. Minho's eyes flick down-
-and he freezes.

All three tasks.

Checked.
✔️ Compliment a stranger
✔️ Share something vulnerable
✔️ Perform an act of kindness

Minho's breath catches. "...Oh."

It's quiet. Barely there. But something in his chest shifts. Hope. Careful. Fragile. Immediate. He stares at the screen like it might change again if he looks too long.

"They updated..." he murmurs under his breath.

His eyes flick toward the couch. Jisung is still watching, still small, still exactly the same. Nothing's changed. Minho swallows. The hope doesn't disappear-but it tightens.

Because now there's a new problem. If the tasks are complete...
Then why isn't he-
Minho's grip on the phone tightens slightly. He looks back down at the app. No new instructions. No explanation. Just... completed.

His jaw shifts. For a second, he almost calls out. Almost tells him. Almost-
His eyes flick back to the couch again. Jisung laughs softly at something on the screen, shifting a little deeper into the cushion. Relaxed. Calm. Not expecting anything.

And Minho-
Hesitates. Because he can already see it. That moment. The way Jisung would light up. The way he'd hope. And if nothing happens-

Minho exhales slowly, locking the phone and setting it down. "...Not yet," he mutters.

He can't do that to him. Not if he's wrong. Not if this is just another dead end. He turns back to the stove, forcing himself to focus, stirring, flipping, moving through the motions. But his eyes keep drifting back. Waiting. Watching. Just in case something changes.

Minho brings the food over once it's done, setting the plate down carefully before easing himself onto the couch beside Jisung. Jisung doesn't look away from the screen right away.

"Finally," he mutters. "I was starting to think you forgot me."

"I checked on you like ten times."

"Not the same as food."

Minho snorts quietly, already breaking off a small piece and holding it out. Jisung turns immediately this time, taking the bite from his fingers without hesitation. They settle into it easily. Anime playing, voices filling the room, the two of them slipping into a rhythm that feels almost normal again. Jisung comments on everything.

"That guy is definitely going to betray them."

"He just got introduced."

"Exactly."

Minho shakes his head. "You're insufferable."

"I'm right."

"You're guessing."

Jisung grins. "I'm right."

Minho feeds him another bite. Jisung keeps talking. Minho keeps responding, quieter, but there. And for a while-
It's just that. No app. No problem to solve. Just them.

By the time they finish eating, Jisung leans back, stretching his arms over his head with a soft groan.

"...Okay," he says, voice going a little softer. "Can we nap?"

Minho glances down at him. "...Yeah," he says after a second. "We can nap."

Jisung smiles faintly. Minho stands, gathering everything up, then reaches down, holding his hand out automatically. Jisung steps on, settling into his palm like he belongs there. They move back to the bedroom, slower this time. Quieter.

Minho sets him down on the bed-
And immediately starts adjusting the pillow again out of habit. Jisung watches him.

"...Min."

Minho hums, not looking up. "What?"

Jisung shifts closer. "I don't want the pillow."

Minho pauses. Slowly looks at him. "...What?"

Jisung hesitates for half a second-then pushes through it. "I want to sleep here," he says, pointing lightly toward Minho's chest.

Minho's expression tightens immediately. "No."

"Min-"

"No," Minho repeats. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because I could roll over," Minho says. "Or move, or-"

"I won't move," Jisung says quickly. "I'll stay right here. I just-" he falters, then softer, "I just want to be closer."

Minho looks at him. Jisung's expression isn't playful this time. It's small. Quiet.

"...Please."

Minho exhales slowly. Runs a hand through his hair. Looks at the bed. The space. The risk. Then back at him.

"...You stay right here," he says finally, tapping the center of his chest. "You don't move. At all."

Jisung nods immediately. "I won't."

"And I'm not sleeping deeply."

"That's dramatic."

"I'm serious."

Jisung softens, just a little. "Okay."

Minho hesitates one more second-
Then carefully picks him up, slower than before, more deliberate. He lays down, easing himself onto his back first-
Then places Jisung right where he said. Center of his chest. Jisung settles instantly, curling slightly, hands resting lightly against Minho's shirt.

"...See," he murmurs. "Perfect."

Minho doesn't relax. Not fully. But he brings one hand up, hovering just beside him, a barrier, a safety net.

"...Don't move," he mutters.

"I won't."

A beat. Then Jisung shifts just enough to press his cheek lightly against him. Closer.

Minho exhales quietly. "...We're fixing this," he says again, softer now.

Jisung hums. "...I know."

Minho closes his eyes. Not fully at ease. But enough.

Minho wakes slowly. At first, it's just warmth. Heavy. Solid. Different. His brows knit before his eyes even open, something in his brain already clocking that this is not how he fell asleep.

There's weight on his chest. Too much weight. His breath catches slightly as his eyes snap open-
-and everything stops.
Jisung is on top of him. Not small. Not curled up like something fragile. Full-sized. Warm. Real. Solid. Completely naked. Curled into him like he always is, cheek pressed firmly against Minho's chest, one arm tucked between them, the other draped loosely across his side like he belongs there.

Minho doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Just stares.

"...Hannie."

Nothing. Jisung doesn't stir. Just breathes, slow and even, completely dead asleep.

Minho's hand, which had been hovering even in his sleep, presses lightly against his back now-just to check. To make sure. Solid. Warm. Normal.

"...Oh my god," Minho breathes.

Carefully-so carefully-he shifts just enough to look down at him properly. Hair messy. Face relaxed. No trace of anything strange. Just Jisung. Back.

Minho lets out a shaky exhale, something in his chest finally loosening all at once.

"...You're back," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

Jisung hums faintly in his sleep, nuzzling a little closer like he heard him, like it's instinct. Minho's hand slides up his back, slow, grounding, like he's still half afraid this is going to disappear if he moves too fast.

"...Unbelievable," he mutters, but there's no frustration in it now. Just relief.

He glances down-
Then immediately reaches for the blanket, tugging it up and over Jisung's bare back without waking him.

"Seriously?" he adds under his breath. "You couldn't at least keep the clothes?"

Jisung just breathes. Warm. Steady. There. Minho settles back into the pillow, one arm wrapped securely around him now, holding him close-not careful in the same way as before, but still intentional. Still grounding. Still real.

His hand presses flat against Jisung's back, feeling the rise and fall. Making sure.

"...Welcome back," he murmurs.

And this time-
He lets himself relax.