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When Chan appears at the porch of Minho’s home, it’s hard for him not to want to turn around and go back into the storm and go back home, making himself smell more like a wet dog. His tail is uncomfortably heavy behind him, matted with the rainwater; his hair isn’t much different. It’s curled in all different directions and most definitely matted, and everything on him right now feels off.
Before Chan could make up his mind, Minho opened the door, wiping something on his pants. It already makes the older man feel guilt rising up his throat, burning like acid and making his eyes prick with tears. “Channie? What are you doing here? You’re soaked.”
“Min—Min, I—” Chan’s voice cracks, his eyes blur more when he blinks, and the feeling in his throat grows tenfold when he properly meets his eyes, the worrying look that he has grown familiar with when Chan comes here, begging for Minho to put him back together.
“Let’s get you inside where it’s warm, then we can chat. I got you, Channie,” Minho softly guides him into the home. Dori stares at Chan after the front door shuts, warmth already wrapping him up from the heater as he’s guided to the younger’s room, a room he’s well familiar with. It doesn’t help with the building fog from the rain and feeling upset.
Chan whimpers when Minho attempts to place him on his bed, pressing his feet to the floor to not make his comforter smell like a wet dog, and he watches Minho’s face crumple in worry, watching the way his ears attempt to hike even more down even as they drip rainwater on his wooden floor.
“M— ‘M sorry. Don’ wanna get your comforter gross. ‘M wet ‘n smell like a—like a wet dog.” Chan’s voice has dipped up an octave—more high-pitched than normal, and it sounds more childish—and Minho tries to school his expression of shock from the change. “Dirty.”
“I don’t mind about my comforter right now, Channie. You need to sit down, okay?” Minho tries to gently say, knowing how bad his knees are nowadays due to how long he sits at his desk and works and works until he can’t, but the older one shakes his head.
“No, ‘m—‘m gonna get it dirty ‘n you’ll be mad ‘n angry ‘n—‘n—” Chan’s breath begins to speed up, his eyes fill with more tears, and Minho just wants to wonder what the hell has happened in the last 48 hours that the older had been out of his sight for him to come back with a Chan he’s never seen before.
He can’t even figure it out before the elder breaks out in sobs; his body shakes more than it did out in the cold, and his wet tail wraps around him in a way to self-soothe, a familiar Chan trait when he cries, but right now it’s just making him more upset because he’s wet.
“Listen to me, Channie, okay? I don’t mind my comforter being dirty; my priority is you. Understand?” Minho spoke as calmly as he could, knowing letting his anger for not checking on him sooner wouldn’t help anything.
Chan’s head nods quickly, and the younger one directs him to sit on the bed, the pool of water dripping from him and his wet clothes already creating a puddle, and he can see how uncomfortable it makes him through his sobs.
He turns to his closet to grab some clothes for him as quickly as he can; Chan is still sobbing, and his heart is breaking into microscopic pieces. He turns back around with a pair of too-big sweats that he always forgot to return and one of the biggest shirts he owns.
“Would you let me give you a bath, Chan-ah?” Chan makes a negative noise in the back of his throat in the midst of his sobs at the formality, which makes Minho frown as he watches his hands bunch up the comforter before settling it back down so he doesn’t accidentally leave holes because of his sharp nails. “You’re okay; I’m here now, and I can just wash the comforter. You don’t need to cry, okay?”
“Mhm,” It’s almost a silent response, his sobs making it hard to respond properly, and Minho isn’t sure what he’s responding to before Chan opens his mouth again. “Bath okay.”
“Okay, let’s get you all clean, and then we can get some food and talk.” Minho helps him back up, directing him to the bathroom across the hall. He is already starting the bath, placing Jisung’s hybrid-safe soaps on the ledge of the porcelain, hoping Jisung wouldn’t mind. While he lets it fill a little, he throws a pink towel in the towel warmer and turns himself to Chan, whose face is red from his crying.
Minho can’t lie that he looks cute right now, his cheeks a bit more chubby from his crying, his curly hair in all sorts of places, his ears bent towards the ground, and even meeting his eyes is cute because of how glassy they are and how it looks like Chan thinks Minho is hanging the moon.
“Do you want me to help you get in and get washed up?” Minho watches Chan nod and raise his arms up, cute. He gently peels off Chan’s long sleeve, and that’s when he sees the red welts on his shoulders, dots of blood where he scratched too deep. “Oh, baby.”
“‘M sorry, Min’-‘yung. I tried, I really tried—” A new round of tears forms and goes down his cheeks, and Minho just shushes him, ignoring the way Chan called him hyung, cupping his face and rubbing the tears with his thumbs.
“I know, baby. Let’s just go one step at a time.” Minho helps him out of his bottoms before helping him into the warm bath, and he can feel Chan’s body soften from the guarded-up hunch he always had since he met the younger and the others due to not ever getting the chance to ever feel safe.
Minho still remembers the first time he met Chan in a psychology course during his freshman year. He was shy and not really talkative, his glasses were always a bit down on his nose, and his ears were always flicking if the air hit them too much. It took a small project with another person in their class for them to have even the smallest bit of a conversation. He had this natural resting face of being guarded to the walls that eventually broke down after their friendship grew and he met the others.
Chan still was a bit shy after they got closer; he always fell into these situations where he wouldn’t want to burden anyone with what’s going on, holding it all in until he crumbled and needed someone to help. Soon, Minho learned about Chan’s past when he started crumbling more frequently than normal; his experiences of being one of the only hybrid kids in a school filled with humans—‘normal people,’ he had said—became more known, more puzzle pieces to fit into the puzzle that explained Chan’s constant need to apologize for even simply looking at someone longer than a second.
It made Minho’s blood boil; he tried hard, and mutual friends too, to assure him the things he did weren’t necessary. That he had no reason to apologize for an accidental gesture, no reason to bottle his emotions, no reason to talk about himself with such venom when he made a mistake, and no reason to make himself feel as if he has no worth or importance to his friends.
The warm water irritates Chan’s scratches with a whimper when the younger drags a wet washcloth with body wash against his body. That gets Minho out of his thoughts, and he apologizes before trying to be more gentle. After the bath is done, Minho gently cleans Chan’s face as well as his welts on his arms, deciding a bandaid isn’t really necessary before directing him to the kitchen after getting him dry and dressed.
Food has always been a touchy subject for Chan; he’s always worried about if something will make him sick, be it undercooked, expired, or touched by someone who’s sick and they don’t know it—anything that can hike his anxiety up and psych him out of eating because he’s too nauseated to do so.
Minho’s been trying to find some ways to help, especially when they are out of the comfortability of each other’s homes. Usually, before they choose a restaurant, Minho will make sure there’s at least something he will deem safe to eat as well as drink.
Right now, Chan is hyperfixated on egg soup and these caramel rice cakes Seungmin brought to a study time a few weeks ago. Of course, Minho also liked them, so they sat in his pantry conveniently for right now. He also had some egg soup ingredients; maybe soup and then rice cakes for an after-snack.
“Is egg soup okay, Channie?” Minho asks before he gets the ingredients out; Chan shakes his head. His hands are moving up and down his arms, a self-soothing tactic he always does when he’s upset or uncomfortable. “Okay, how about some rice cakes?”
His ears pick up on that, his eyes make contact with Minho’s, and he can see the smallest bit of his tail wagging. Cute, Minho thinks. The hybrid nods, and the younger one turns to the pantry to retrieve them; he grabs an unopened bag, not wanting him to possibly feel bad for eating all of them.
He places them in front of Chan and then goes to get a cup with a lid, knowing how clumsy he can be sometimes. He eats the majority of the bag before he pushes it away, signaling he’s done eating. Minho coaxes him to drink some water slowly and not so much that his stomach will hurt before moving him to the living room to hopefully talk to him.
When they get to the living room, Chan is avoiding his eyes at all costs, watching Soonie take a nap on the many cat trees around the house, Doongie swatting at a left toy, and Dori purring at his legs, pressing against them and trying to get through them.
“Channie,” Minho says after a while of silence and avoiding eye contact, fixing himself to be sitting on the small coffee table in front of the couch. The hybrid still doesn’t lock eyes with him, finding interest in a fray on his couch. “Chan-ah, look at me, please?”
That gets the man’s attention quickly; he can see the way he swallows hard as he finally makes eye contact with Minho. He hates how terrified the hybrid looks, but avoiding eye contact is something Minho doesn’t want right now.
“What’s going on, hm? What’s going on in that head of yours?” Minho gently questioned, placing a cautious hand to Chan’s face, rubbing his cheekbone softly with his thumb with a gentle smile. “You can tell me; your struggles are not burdens to anyone, remember? I told you that I’m always here to help you.”
“Min-‘yung wouldn’ under’tand,” Chan whispered, and Minho saw the way his eyes began to gloss over and reflect the small lamp on the left of the room behind him, which created a frown on his face. “No one under’tands.”
“I can attempt to understand, Channie. Will you let me try?” Minho gently rubbed his cheek once more, his frown deepening as the tears fell down his cheeks when he tried blinking them away. “I promise if I don’t, we can try a different way, okay?”
“Okay,” Chan mutters, and the other man’s frown improves to a small smile; he plays with his hands before biting his lip. “Channie gets too in his head, upset, slips ‘n wan’ to be small an’ taken care of.”
Minho hums for him to continue, hoping the rest will help him understand. He continues, “Wan’ to be treated wit’ lov’ by som’one. Wan’ feel safe, lov’d—like Minnie does for Channie som’tim’s when he is stupid.”
“Channie, you aren’t stupid. And, by small, do you mean like a child…?” Minho watches the way he realizes he must’ve made a mistake and must’ve not meant to make the illusion of what small truly meant.
“I—Min-‘yung, ‘m sorry. I didn’ mean—”
“Shh, you didn’t do anything wrong, jagi,” Minho cuts him off, and Chan just shakes his head. “If that’s what it is, that is perfectly okay. I’ll be here to help, I promise.”
“Channi’ burdens Min too much,” Chan shakes his head again, and Minho frowns.
“You don’t burden me, jagi. I would do anything for you to feel safe. I want you to come to me when you feel down or small. I want to be a safe person for you.” Minho gently finds his hand on the hybrid’s cheek again, rubbing softly with a small smile even if he feels like crying at how upset Chan looks. “I want to help you, but I don’t want to ruin anything for you regarding what you’ve told me.”
“I wan’ you to, wan’ Min-‘yung to,” Chan rushed out, and Minho had to pretend his heart didn't swell at that. “I wanted to tell you, I dreamed of you takin’ care of me.”
“Well, now you don’t have to dream anymore, hm?” Minho’s face tips up into a bigger smile, and Chan gets up to hug him hard. “I love you so much, Channie. Never forget that.”
“I lov’ you too, Min-‘yung,” Chan replies, muffled in his shirt, and Minho’s hand finds his back, rubbing back and forth before he lifts the other to sit on the couch with him on his lap.
Chan only tries to snuggle deeper when they sit, and Minho reaches to find a blanket. He gently plays with his hair as they sit in almost silence with the occasional meows from the cats and the fridge humming in the kitchen.
Later, Minho makes him actual food and spends the night coloring pages Minho found online that he printed and watching any movies he could name to watch.
Eventually, Chan began showing signs that he was getting sleepy. He would yawn, blink very slowly, rub one of his eyes, and even fall asleep a few times when watching the movie; after he gets interested in the dialogue he hears.
After Chan spooks himself awake for the fourth time with a rub to his left eye, Minho deems it time for them to sleep. “Alright, Channie. Let’s clean up and head to sleep, hm?”
Chan pouts sleepily at that but knows making a fuss will probably make Minho rethink offering to take care of him before he actually can in his headspace, so he cleans up the colors he used, the pages, and everything else in the corner of the table and watches Hiccup and Toothless be turned off.
Minho helps him stand, waiting for him to ask to be picked up, but instead he laces his hand sleepily with the other and waits to be guided to his room. They only get a bit far before Minho feels he’s dragging Chan more than guiding him, so he gently picks him up and takes him to his room.
He strips the comforter that Chan feared to sit on a few hours ago and replaces it with a backup; he didn’t see any signs it seeped into the other layers of his bedding, so he just places the new comforter and throws the other in a corner to deal with later.
He switches on the small fairy lights that are placed on the wall above his desk to have a small night light for Chan before crawling into bed, offering his arms out for the hybrid to cuddle.
Chan takes the offer immediately, snuggling deep into his chest with a satisfied hum.
They would need to do a lot of talking about this later, but for now, Minho decided to stay in the comfortable silence with Chan cuddled close to him, both calm and comfortable. He wouldn’t trade this position or his new role for the world no matter what he was offered.