Chapter Text
The Tuscan sunset had followed them all the way back to Rome—deep orange fading into indigo as their van wound through the city streets and pulled up to the familiar hotel. The day had been long, filled with sunshine and wine and slow, winding walks through endless rows of grapevines. It had been perfect. It had also been exhausting.
By the time they stepped into the lobby, no one even mentioned dinner.
“Breakfast tomorrow?” Easter asked around a sleepy yawn as they rode the elevator up.
“Yeah,” Typhoon said, rubbing at his eyes. “Then airport.”
“Perfect,” North added, leaning against Johan. “I don’t think I could chew right now if I tried.”
“Agreed,” Daotok mumbled. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”
There were half-hearted waves and quiet goodnights as they split off into their rooms—promises to meet at 8 a.m. sharp and maybe, maybe, find one last Roman pastry before the flight. But for now, beds called louder than any restaurant could.
Steam still clung faintly to the bathroom mirror when Hill stepped out of the shower, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends. The lights in the room were dimmed, the curtains drawn, the city’s glow filtering in softly from beyond the glass.
And there, sprawled across their bed on his stomach, was Easter.
He was clearly trying to stay awake with his head turned toward the bathroom door, hair a messy halo against the pillow, eyes fluttering open every few seconds before drooping shut again. His phone sat forgotten on the bedside table, and his fingers were loosely curled around the edge of the blanket as if holding himself in place would keep him conscious.
Hill’s heart softened immediately.
He crossed the room quietly, the floorboards creaking under his steps, and sat down gently at the edge of the bed. “Sunshine,” he murmured, brushing a few strands of hair from Easter’s forehead.
Easter stirred, blinking sleepily and letting out a small hum. “You’re done…”
“I told you to sleep,” Hill said, voice low and tender. “You didn’t have to wait.”
“Didn’t wanna,” Easter mumbled, his words heavy with drowsiness. “Wanted to wait for you…”
He shifted slightly, leaning his cheek against Hill’s thigh, eyes half-lidded but stubbornly open. Hill’s hand never stopped its soft, rhythmic motion, combing through Easter’s hair, tracing gentle lines along his temple.
“This was…” Easter started, his voice barely above a whisper, “more than we planned.”
Hill tilted his head. “More?”
“Mmh.” Easter’s lips curved into a sleepy smile. “We just wanted… a graduation trip. But it turned into something more.”
“It did,” Hill agreed softly.
“Worth it, though,” Easter murmured, lashes fluttering again. “Because you followed. Because you came.”
Hill’s chest tightened at the honesty buried in those sleepy words. “Of course I did.”
Easter let out a tiny sigh, nuzzling closer against him, his voice even softer now. “Of course you’ll follow me anywhere.”
Hill froze for a second, not because he doubted it, but because the truth of it settled deeply. He reached down and pressed a kiss to Easter’s hair, his fingers still brushing through those soft curls.
“Anywhere,” he whispered back. “Always.”
Easter hummed at the words, the smallest, most content sound, and within moments his breathing evened out, the fight against sleep finally lost. Hill stayed where he was, one hand in Easter’s hair, the other tracing lazy circles on his back, watching the steady rise and fall of his shoulders.
Hill’s gaze dropped to the small velvet box he’d taken out from the pocket of his duffel bag earlier. Three rings nestled inside—all gold, all warm as sunlight, but it was the one in the center that he picked up.
The citrine stone was the color of a late afternoon sunbeam, and the delicate diamonds trailing down the band caught the light like water drops. It was the one that reminded Hill most of Easter—bright without trying, radiant without effort.
He held it in his palm for a moment, his chest tightening with the weight of what it meant.
Carefully, Hill took Easter’s hand from atop the sheets. Easter stirred faintly but didn’t wake, his fingers relaxing as Hill gently slipped the ring onto his ring finger. It slid on perfectly, as if it had always belonged there.
Hill stared at it for a long moment, thumb brushing lightly over the warm gold now circling Easter’s finger. It wasn’t meant to be flashy or dramatic. It was a private moment, meant for this quiet night. A secret promise Easter would only notice in the morning.
He placed the box with the two remaining rings on the bedside table, arranging it neatly where Easter would see it when he woke. Then, leaning forward, Hill pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead, his lips brushing against skin that was warm from sleep.
“Goodnight, sunshine,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath.
Easter murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, instinctively shifting closer. His arms wrapped around Hill’s waist as if even in dreams he didn’t want him to go, holding him just a little tighter. His face buried into Hill’s side, his breathing evening out once more.
Hill froze for a heartbeat, overwhelmed by how right it all felt—the ring, the closeness, the quiet promise hanging in the air. Then he smiled, the kind of smile that came from deep inside his chest, and eased himself down beside Easter, pulling the smaller man gently into his arms.
Easter didn’t stir again. He slept peacefully, golden ring glinting softly in the lamplight—completely oblivious to the fact that, while he dreamt, a new chapter of their story had just quietly begun.
And Hill, still tracing slow circles on Easter’s back, knew one thing with absolute certainty: this was where he was meant to be.
The pale blush of dawn was just beginning to creep across the horizon when Easter stirred awake. The world was still wrapped in that hushed, in-between moment that was too early for the rush of morning, but too late for the stillness of night.
Warmth anchored him before his thoughts could catch up: Hill’s arms, steady and protective, wrapped loosely around him. The older man was already awake, leaning against the headboard with a soft, lazy posture, his fingers gently combing through Easter’s messy hair.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Hill murmured the moment he saw Easter’s lashes flutter open. The words were soft and full of warmth, like a secret meant only for the two of them.
Easter blinked up at him, sleep still clinging to the edges of his smile. “Good morning, Phi,” he whispered back, the honorific rolling off his tongue with affection.
He stretched, untangling himself from Hill’s hold to raise his arms above his head, and then froze mid-movement.
There was something on his finger. Something cool against his skin, something that hadn’t been there before.
Easter lowered his hand slowly, his breath catching when the early morning light caught on the gold band now sitting snugly on his ring finger. The citrine stone glowed warm and golden, like a trapped piece of sunlight.
Hill watched his reaction silently, that same tender smile curving his lips. “Do you like it?” he asked gently.
Easter’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “Phi… what’s this for?” he breathed, staring at the ring and then back at Hill as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
Hill shifted behind him, moving closer until he was half hugging Easter from behind—his chest pressed to Easter’s back, chin resting lightly on his shoulder. With his free hand, he reached for the small velvet box resting on the bedside table and flipped it open. Inside, the two other rings nestled quietly against the fabric.
“It’s a proposal,” Hill said simply.
“Phi…” Easter started, voice trembling slightly. “But—”
“If the word proposal scares you,” Hill cut in softly, his voice steady and patient, “then it’s a promise for now.”
Easter turned slightly, confusion and emotion swirling in his gaze, but Hill’s voice stayed calm, grounding.
“A promise that until that word doesn’t scare you anymore,” Hill continued, “I’ll stay. I’ll wait. No matter how long it takes—a year, ten years, forever, I’ll always wait for you.”
“…It’s not the word that scares me,” Easter whispered after a beat of silence, voice barely steady. “It’s losing you.”
Hill froze for just a second. Then he shifted, turning Easter’s hand over in his own and bringing it up to his lips. A kiss, slow and deliberate, pressed to his knuckles where the ring is now rested.
“Sunshine,” Hill murmured, his voice warm and sure, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not going anywhere. That’s why you shouldn’t be scared.”
He gently lifted the two remaining rings from the box and, one by one, slid them onto Easter’s finger, stacking them neatly above the one he had placed last night. The three of them together shimmered like captured sunlight—radiant, warm, timeless.
“It suits you,” Hill murmured, his lips brushing Easter’s ear as he spoke.
Easter stared down at his hand, the breath caught in his throat. He’d never been this speechless before. Not in any exam, not during any confession, not even the day Hill told him he was his boyfriend. His chest ached with the weight of the sincerity, the patience, the love that wrapped itself around him as gently and completely as Hill’s arms did now.
“…It’s beautiful, Phi,” he finally managed, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I’m glad,” Hill said softly, and he sounded like he meant it with every part of himself.
Easter turned to face him fully, his heart still racing, and looked down at the rings again. “Why citrine?” he asked quietly. “Why not something else?”
Hill’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. He lifted Easter’s hand back to his lips and pressed a slow, reverent kiss to his knuckles, just below where the stones gleamed.
“Because,” he said against his skin, “it reminds me of you. Of how radiant you are. Just like the sun.”
The words sank deep, soft and golden, settling somewhere warm in Easter’s chest. He felt his cheeks heat, felt that familiar flutter of disbelief and wonder that his Phi Hill could see him that way. And maybe it was the way Hill said it so simply, so certainly, or maybe it was the way his heart wouldn’t stop racing, but before Easter could think twice, the words burst out of him.
“I love you.”
It was sudden and unfiltered, as if the truth had been sitting right there on the edge of his tongue all along, waiting for the right heartbeat to fall free. Hill blinked once, then a quiet laugh slipped past his lips. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he leaned forward and caught Easter’s lips in a kiss.
It was gentle at first, barely more than a brush of warmth and breath. Then he kissed him again—deeper this time, as if each kiss was a word, a sentence, a story he wanted Easter to feel rather than hear.
“And I love you too,” he murmured between kisses, the words threading through every soft press of his lips.
A kiss against the corner of Easter’s mouth. “I love you.”
Another along the curve of his lower lip. “So much.”
One more, deeper, lingering. “I always will.”
The sunrise spilled through the curtains, golden light catching on the citrine stone when their kisses slowed but didn’t stop. Easter’s hands, once tentative and unsure, now clung a little tighter to Hill’s shirt, pulling him closer, drawing him in as if proximity alone wasn’t enough anymore.
Hill felt the shift before it truly happened—the way Easter’s breathing deepened, how his lips lingered longer, how the kiss turned from something sweet and fluttering into something that trembled with want. He pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at him, and found Easter’s cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling a little faster than before.
“Sunshine,” Hill murmured, his forehead resting against Easter’s, “if you start something now…” His thumb traced a slow line along Easter’s jaw, his tone dipping into teasing. “…we might end up missing breakfast. And our flight.”
Easter’s lips curved into a mischievous little smile that always made Hill’s heart trip. “I don’t care,” he whispered, voice still a little breathless. “I’m a Jittangkul, and you’re a Thanthikul.” His fingers toyed with the buttons of Hill’s shirt, his grin widening. “We can buy first-class tickets on the spot if we wanted to.”
Hill barked out a laugh soft and warm and utterly fond before it melted into something deeper as Easter kissed him again, this time with a slow, deliberate hunger that erased any thought of timetables or flights.
The world beyond their room ceased to exist. There was only the quiet hum of the city waking beyond the windows, the low rasp of breath shared between kisses, the faint sound of sheets shifting beneath them as Hill gently guided Easter back down onto the mattress.
“Reckless,” Hill murmured against his lips, his voice laced with amusement and affection.
“Hopeless,” Easter countered softly, tugging Hill closer until there was no space left between them. “Hopelessly in love with you.”
That made Hill pause, just for a moment to let the words sink into his chest before he kissed him again, deeper this time, slower. His hands roamed gently, tracing the curve of Easter’s waist through the fabric of his sleep shirt, drawing tiny, absentminded circles against warm skin. Easter shivered beneath the touch, a soft moan slipping from his throat.
The kiss deepened until it felt like breathing, like gravity, like something they’d been building toward all along. Hill’s mouth trailed from Easter’s lips down to his jaw, then lower. The brush of his lips against the sensitive skin of Easter’s neck made the younger man arch slightly, fingers curling into Hill’s hair. Each kiss was unhurried and reverent, as if Hill was memorizing the path of Easter’s skin with his lips.
“You’re sure?” Hill whispered against his collarbone, pausing long enough to give him space.
Easter nodded, breath trembling. “I’m sure.”
And that was all Hill needed.
Their movements stayed slow, patient. Hill’s hands mapped every inch of Easter’s skin with the kind of care that said you’re precious, while Easter tugged him closer with touches that said you’re mine. There was no rush, no frantic pace—just the slow burn of closeness, the soft press of lips against skin, the tender sighs and whispered names between breaths.
The sunrise spilled brighter across the bed, catching in Easter’s hair, in the gold of the rings, in the warmth of the sheets tangled around their legs. And in that golden, fleeting morning, with laughter still lingering between kisses and promises still ringing in their hearts, they made something as gentle and infinite as love itself.
By the time they stilled, Easter was curled against Hill’s chest, heart still racing, skin warm and flushed. Hill brushed his fingers through Easter’s hair again and pressed one last kiss to his temple.
“Still think missing the flight is worth it?” Hill teased softly.
Easter hummed, eyes fluttering closed, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Absolutely.”
Hill chuckled, holding him closer. “Then maybe,” he whispered, kissing the crown of his head, “we’ll take the next flight.”
And there, wrapped up in golden light and each other, breakfast and departure schedules suddenly felt like the least important things in the world.