Chapter Text
yeonbin song because yeonjun said it reminds him of soobin
It’s a lazy, quiet afternoon in the Choi’s household, soft pitter-patter of the rain can be heard in the corners of the house, faint sound of the end credit of the film the two were watching filled the air. It was Yeonjun’s idea to watch a movie to kill time, but it wasn’t even half into it when he fell asleep. Soobin, who’s bored by now due to the lack of interaction, finally gets up from the floor and crouches down before the couch, gently pulling the blanket up to Yeonjun’s chest. A smile breaks upon his lips when he sees Yeonjun snuggles deeper into the warmth of his blanket.
He makes his way to the kitchen, swiftly prepares himself a cup of hot almond milk to warm himself up before he goes out to the small yard at the back of their house. He takes a sip from the cup, his eyes fixated on the grey skies that pour heavy rain. It’s getting worse by second, and though Soobin is inches away from the rain, the splatters that hit the ends of his toes send shivers along his spine. He breathes in the coldness and silence while his mind runs thousands of miles per second.
Time passes by like a flash after the conference. It has been two weeks since then, though it doesn’t seem and feel like it, and Soobin hates the way how he doesn’t have a firm grip on Time because It’s moving so fast he can barely catch up. It’s a scary thing because though it doesn’t seem things aren’t changing, everything is definitely changing. Things are shifting, and he can only hope to the highest of heavens that they are changing for good—good for him, for him and Yeonjun, especially for Yeonjun.
A few days after the conference, after days of heavy discussions and failed negotiations, Choi Yeonjun has finally terminated his contract with his former agency. Soobin was there when it happened, his hand unconsciously tightening his grip on Yeonjun’s under the table, all in while pondering whether it was the right move to do, because Yeonjun is at the peak of his career and terminating his contract in the middle of it all would put all his efforts into a halt. Yeonjun didn’t waver, though, and Soobin wondered how he could be so certain and sure.
The same day too, Yeonjun announced his hiatus for some period that is yet to be determined from the entertainment industry. Like a storm hitting the earth. Quick. Instant. Just like that—like it’s nothing at all. Like the years he had spent wishing on the dead stars to own the stage for the rest of his life, like all the days when the spotlight was on him along with the deafening cheers of his name mean nothing to him. Yeonjun had never really taken a long break before because that was literally his life, and he seemed to can’t get enough of the adrenaline rush that he could only get when the whole arena screamed nothing but his name. Yeonjun made it seem so easy—as if it didn’t hurt. As if he wasn’t taking a break from a routine that made up almost all of his life.
“Why did you do that?” Soobin asked as the guilt and insecurities bubbled beneath him, demanding to be felt and acknowledged. He tried to hold them back in place, looking at Yeonjun earnestly, desperately waiting for comfort and reassurance from the older.
Yeonjun didn’t miss a beat as replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I figured I want to spend all of my time with you now. Aren’t I romantic?” It was playful on Yeonjun’s end, but he really meant each and every word that he uttered.
Choi Soobin doesn’t understand—why Choi Yeonjun picks him, over that world. He doesn’t think he would be able to understand that, ever, and maybe that’s okay for once.
Yeonjun told him that it is love. Soobin knows it is love, but honestly, how can someone as colourful as Choi Yeonjun love someone as plain as Choi Soobin that much? How is it possible to love someone that much that one doesn’t mind dropping anything else—something that’s very precious, a world full of stars and spotlights—just for the sake of the other? It’s not that he’s doubting the amount of love the older has for him—it’s just that Soobin’s insecurities are acting up and he still doesn’t know how to take control over the thought of how he thinks he’s unworthy for all the efforts and affection Yeonjun puts into the relationship—for Choi Soobin. After all, in his mind, Yeonjun is a scintillating rainbow, and he is only boring white. It really doesn’t make any sense.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yeonjun murmured through the darkness, against his heavy sleepiness and grogginess. “You’re the most beautiful white I’ve seen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jun.”
“I learnt it from you,” Yeonjun retorted back, but he fell asleep just as quick the conversation died and was never brought up again.
A few days after that, Soobin asked Yeonjun why he took all the blame over the incident with Yeji, why he refused to tell the audience the very truth of what really happened. Why he felt the need to cover for her. Why, because it definitely stains his image and name as an artist, as a husband. Why, when he was given the opportunity to clear his name, didn’t he use it so people wouldn’t judge him mindlessly again. Yeonjun’s answer was easy. He really made everything seem easy—as if it wasn’t complicated. Perhaps it really doesn’t have to be complex and complicated—perhaps everything doesn’t have to be as complex and complicated like how it is in Soobin’s mind.
Yeonjun’s answer really was easy. Short and simple, yet solid and definite.
“Do you trust me?” he asked, looking up from his favourite aglio olio in front of him, tilting his head to the younger a degree or two.
Soobin nodded, eyes brimming of pure honesty and determination. “Of course I do.”
Yeonjun’s lips cracked into a smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling softly. “Then it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks,” he answered, his voice was laced with honey that Soobin couldn’t help but melt into the sweetness. “As long as you trust me, then it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks.”
Soobin has never expressed his worries and concern because Yeonjun looks awfully okay, and he knows that even if he does express it, his husband will insist that everything really is okay, that he is okay. The thing is, Soobin’s worried. What’s next for Yeonjun? They’ve spent two weeks at home, far and disconnected from the rest of the world, doing nothing at all but it feels like everything all the same. Yeonjun’s the first thing—person—that he sees before his eyes every time the sun rises and makes its way into the bedroom, and he’s also the last person that he sees before he meets him once again in his dreamland. Soobin thinks that if it’s for and with Yeonjun, he can do that over and over again, until forever loses its meaning, until the end of his time.
He wonders if Yeonjun thinks and feels the same, too, now that he really is dropping the world he used to hold very carefully and dearly in his hands for him.
Soobin, who’s so deep in thought and yet is drawn towards the clouds’ insane downpour as if it wants to break open the ground, absentmindedly places the cup on the small outdoor table at the side and walks forward, all into the rain to the middle of their small yard, drenched and soaked within seconds. The matching light grey hoodie and sweatpants that Yeonjun got him recently add a few kilograms to his weight, clutching coldly against his skin, his body heavier. The droplets feel like bullets, and under the vast sky, Soobin is literally and figuratively small—he figures it’s very much possible for the rain to drown him, or for the earth to swallow him whole.
Soobin looks up, closes his eyes, letting the rain to consume him for who he is, and for once since ages ago, the rain is louder than his thoughts, and over time, the thoughts finally quiets down. He likes it, and so he lets it be. It puts his mind into a complete stop, and gradually his shoulders stop shaking, his teeth stop chattering. He relaxes under the chaotic thunders and lightning. He breathes in, allowing the heavy cries of nature to overpower him as he welcomes them with open arms. The rain gets heavier as the sky turns darker—if that’s even possible—as if the clouds are kind enough to absorb all the draining, depleting shits that have been occupying his pretty little mind.
It seems as if the nature is calling out to him, and says relax, relax, relax, I got you.
For a moment, it’s just that—him and the rain. Nothing else exists, except for himself, and he accepts that. Until he hears a faint yell of his name—heavenly and mellifluent—overshadowed by the strident thunders, and yet Soobin knows there’s no way in heaven and hell that he won’t notice the voice. He would notice it—he would hear it—through all of the quietness and loudness, he would hear.
Hence, he opens his eyes, though hardly under the rain.
Through blurry vision and shaky breaths, he fixes his focus at the roofed sliding door, squinting his eyes for a few times before he manages to make up a figure standing there. Yeonjun has his hand is tightly fisting around the fabric of the pink blanket that’s wrapped around his body. Another hand is at the side of his lips as his mouth opens, calling out to Soobin again, louder this time as if he didn’t hear it the first time around.
“Choi Soobin!”
It’s strange, Soobin thinks, how it’s deadly cold outside like it’s winter, and yet inside he feels comfortably warm like it’s summer.
“Choi Soobin! Soobinnie!” Yeonjun yells once more and Soobin wonders whether his voice cracks at the end or if it’s just in his mind. Whichever it is, it sounds so, so lovely and endearing all the same. He can see that Yeonjun’s inching closer to the rain—the sky blue hoodie and sweatpants becoming clearer (it’s the same like ones Soobin’s wearing, only that Yeonjun’s in different colour, and they’re a couple item Yeonjun got because he’s just cheesy and corny like that); he’s closer but not enough for him to get to Soobin. They’re still a few feet apart, separated by the cloudburst, and Soobin thinks, at the sight of a sleepy-looking Yeonjun, it’s him who’s going to burst next. “Get inside now! You’re going to catch a cold!”
Yeonjun extends his hand, waving him over before he makes a grabby motion, adorably asking Soobin to rush to him and interlace their fingers together. Soobin thinks he’s really gone for the other.
Soobin doesn’t move. Instead, he yells just as loud, “Choi Yeonjun, it’s goddamn cold out here!”
Yeonjun remains silent for a moment, his head tilting to the side, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. He slightly moves forward, a step or two, before he replies, “I can’t hear you!” and he flails his arm dramatically around his ear to emphasize his message. “The rain’s too loud! Can you please repeat yourself?”
Soobin laughs, softly, softly before he lets it out all at once in such a heartily one. He brushes away the droplets that linger on his lashes and at the corners of his eyes so that he’s able to look at Yeonjun clearly. In a heartbeat, under a breath, and as loud as the thunders overhead, he screams, “Hey, Choi Yeonjun, I love you! I really, really do!”
“Can you please get back here so that we can have a conversation like normal people?” Yeonjun asks, a hint of frustration is evident in his voice, though he still takes another step forward and if he does just one more, he’ll completely be drenched too, something that he’s not up for at the moment. He pulls the blanket closer to his body when a gush of wind violently dances against the exposed skin on his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
Soobin laughs again. “I said I love you! Won’t you say it back?”
“I love you too! You know I do,” Yeonjun cries desperately, “Now will you please get back here?”
Soobin hears Yeonjun loud and clear, but he decides to fool around, enjoying the worried expression the other has on display a tad too much. It’s fun teasing him too.
“I can’t hear you!” Soobin repeats what Yeonjun had said just a minute ago. “The rain’s too loud; can you please repeat yourself?”
Soobin swears he can see the annoyed huff Yeonjun lets out before the older marches forward, and within five big steps, he’s now standing completely in front of the taller male. Soobin no longer feels the heavy bullets against the fabric of his clothes as Yeonjun has both of his arms on both of their heads, the blanket serves as a shield to protect the two from the rain. As Soobin looks down at the one who’s already staring up at him, everything goes silent and the world stops spinning—that’s of course, an exaggeration but at least that’s what it feels like to Soobin.
“I love you too,” Yeonjun whispers, and somehow it becomes the loudest and clearest, most heartfelt confession he has ever heard.
“I know,” Soobin mutters, swiftly snaking an arm around Yeonjun’s waist, pulling him closer. “I heard it the first time around. I just wanted to hear it again.”
Yeonjun gasps. “Jackass!” Soobin almost thinks Yeonjun really is annoyed if it wasn’t for the soft smile that creeps its way onto his lips afterwards.
“How was your nap?”
It’s not a conversation that Yeonjun thinks he would be having under the rain, but he answers still. “It was good.”
“How does it feel ditching me not even halfway into the movie just to sleep?”
Yeonjun rolls his eyes at the sarcastic question. “Geez, I’ll make it up to you, your highness.”
“The rain’s really heavy.” Soobin states the very obvious.
“It really is, which is why I don’t understand why you’re out here.”
“I don’t understand why you’re out here with me too.”
The older groans, rolling his eyes. “Binnie, if you haven’t noticed, this is such a pointless conversation. My arms are tired already!” Yeonjun says, eyes shifting to the now damped pink blanket overhead for a short while before he settles his gaze back on Soobin.
“It’s really cold out here.” Soobin mumbles, completely ignoring Yeonjun’s complain. “I’m cold.”
“Of course you are!” Yeonjun’s tone almost scolding. “Let’s head inside and warm you up.”
“Can you kiss me?” Soobin asks almost immediately, thoughtlessly before Yeonjun could turn around and drag him towards the house. “I mean, can I kiss you first before we get in?”
Blood rushes to Yeonjun’s cheeks as the heat makes way to the tips of his ears, his whole face reddens under Soobin’s genuine question. They kiss more than a lot, and that isn’t exactly the first time one of them asks for permission, but there’s something in the way Soobin asked and looked at him as he did so that makes everything feels even more intimate that day. Perhaps it’s the rain. Perhaps it’s the thunders. Perhaps it’s the way how all he can see at that moment is Soobin and only him. Perhaps it’s Soobin. Yeonjun’s certain it’s Soobin.
“Can we—“
Yeonjun nods, granting the permission Soobin’s looking for.
And so Soobin leans in, slowly, slowly and all at once, letting his lips flutter lightly over Yeonjun’s for a millisecond before entirely closing all the gaps that exist between them. Their eyes shut almost simultaneously, with Soobin’s having his own completely closed just a few moments after Yeonjun. The kiss they’re sharing saves Soobin in every way possible, in every way there is. As the taller tilts his head with his hands resting at Yeonjun’s cheeks to kiss him better, Yeonjun finally lets his arms down to wrap them around Soobin’s neck; the blanket slips from his fingers and pathetically falls on the ground, forming a small splash of puddles around their feet.
The sudden droplets that hit them square in the faces shock the hell out of them, but only for a short while. Yeonjun’s completely drenched and he should be bothered, but all he can think of is the faint taste of almond as well as the gentle movement of Soobin’s lips that are guiding his own. He can taste the pure taste of rain at the roof of Soobin’s mouth too, and there’s something about kissing under the rain that feels almost too cliché, but with the way he kisses him good and sends him into a dreamy state of euphoria, Yeonjun doesn’t really mind cliché. Soobin lets out a sigh of relief that Yeonjun swallows it whole into his being, pulling him closer and kissing him sweeter that Yeonjun’s left breathless when Soobin finally pulls away approximately 15 seconds after.
Yeonjun feels dizzy and ecstatic as he leans his forehead on Soobin’s chest, lips dewy and swollen, his knees shaky. His hands found their way at the sides of the younger’s waist, clinging onto him for dear life because he literally can’t feel his legs anymore.
“This is so romantic,” Soobin says, a chuckle ends his sentence. “Cold, too, but romantic mostly. Like in books and movies.”
“It is,” Yeonjun replies just as playfully as he looks up. “Will you please kiss me again, once more before we head inside?”
Soobin obeys, and they have another one—or two, or many more because Yeonjun gets whatever it is that he wants—before they return to the warmth of their home, but it’s not Yeonjun who drags them in.
It’s Soobin, and that’s only possible after Soobin promises to kiss him more when they get in.
Yeonjun can be a brat sometimes, he thinks, but Soobin really won’t have him any other way.
That night, Yeonjun feels the heat uncomfortably building up at the back of his throat. He tries to cool it down by having a cup of cold water, and by dinner, he loses all of his appetite altogether. Soobin notices the lack of red behind Yeonjun’s cheeks, and so he reaches over and places the back of his hand on Yeonjun’s forehead.
“You’re burning!” Soobin gasps in surprise before he forces a total of five spoonful of kimchi fried rice down Yeonjun’s throat and have him swallowed two bitter tablets of flu medicine afterwards. Soobin holds back a snicker once Yeonjun’s face scrunched up at the sharp taste of pills that linger on his tongue, thinking it’s funny how Yeonjun was all riled up to drag him inside out of worry for he might be catching a cold, but it’s the older who’s getting sick now.
At nine p.m., Yeonjun’s all bundled up in Soobin’s sweater and a pair of socks, with a duvet covering him up to his chest. Soobin insisted him to sleep, but Yeonjun’s too stubborn to listen as the new episode of a k-drama that he recently follows is up. Soobin can only shake his head as he settles himself comfortably beside the older on the bed, letting Yeonjun to drape an arm around his torso as he snuggles closer. It’s been like that for two weeks, unproductive and lazy, but Soobin ain’t complaining. The world keeps revolving. The earth keeps spinning. He isn’t well-updated with what’s going on out there, but he knows it’s nothing that both of them can’t handle, really, because the last time they heard from Beomgyu and Taehyun is a week ago, and so they assume that things are fine and manageable.
Soobin looks up from Yeonjun’s hair to catch a scene of a young single-dad sending his toddler off to the day care, before he too catches a bus to get to work. Though the younger has his eyes on the screen of his MacBook occasionally, he fails to catch up on what’s happening in the episode because Yeonjun’s vanilla and honeydew scent is too distracting for his own good, and the way the faint moonlight that bathes the side of his face makes him look even more ethereal than he usually does. Hence, Soobin finds himself watching Yeonjun more instead—another cliché, but oh well.
“Hey, Soobin,” Yeonjun sounds dreamy and muzzy—almost sleepy—as if he’s floating between the state of consciousness and unconsciousness. “I want kids.”
Now, Yeonjun really has been dropping questions, suggestions and demands that, more often than not, catch Soobin off guard for the past two weeks. They’re dropped at random times, when Soobin least expects it, thoughtful yet playful, that Soobin doesn’t know whether to take the older seriously or not. They range from ‘hey, should we move to the outskirt of Seoul? It’s quiet and you can be more focused on your writing’ to ‘should we get married again (Soobin had to ask whether it’s possible to be married again to the person you’re still legally married to, to which Yeonjun just waved him off) and this time, we hold a ceremony and make it like so grand and we can have BTS sings there as well so it can be like wedding of the year or something’. Soobin remembers laughing silently at the suggestion, thinking it’s absurd and yet endearing at the same time.
“Bin, if you could date any celebrity, who would you choose?” Yeonjun asked one day, amidst their gardening session at the back of their house.
Soobin coughed aloud at the question, flustered and bewildered. “I’m literally married to one.”
Yeonjun smiled ever so adorably at the right answer as he flicked his bangs out of his face. “I know. I just feel the need to be aware in case I need to fight somebody.”
Those were just ones out of many, but now, now, what the older has just said really catches him off guard he’s rendered speechless for he doesn’t know how long, but it must be long enough that Yeonjun has to tilt his head slightly to peek at him through the dark, propping his elbow at the side of Soobin’s waist. He openly stares back at Yeonjun’s eyes that hold the entire universe in them, mouth and throat dry, his brain short-circuit and all of his vocabulary vanishes for good. He can feel the uncomfortable heat settling under his cheeks, and he wonders if Yeonjun can see it. He hopes he can’t, or pretends that he doesn’t notice it even if he does.
“Bin,” Yeonjun softly calls out, eyes half-lidded and still sounds just as dreamy. “I said I want kids.”
It’s a topic that has been long abandoned due to their busy careers and commitments, especially on Yeonjun’s part. They both love kids way too much for their own good, and Soobin expressed that particular want only once throughout their marriage, because though the older shares the same want too, he couldn’t commit to another huge responsibility just yet, and Soobin was understanding. Soobin looks intently, eyes sharp and intense, but warm as he makes himself think that Yeonjun is drowsy from the medicine he had earlier, and when the morning comes, he’ll forget he’s having this conversation with him.
“Uh,” Soobin begins unsurely, because he really doesn’t know where to steer the conversation. He’s not like Yeonjun who has the greatest ability to steer a conversation to wherever directions he likes. “Yeah, okay.”
“Can we please adopt two the first time around?” Yeonjun asks, and Soobin listens intently, his heart swelling up with overwhelming emotions that are surging within him. “I would like to have an even number family.”
“Why?”
“So that whenever we go to the theme park, everyone would have a partner to go with on the rollercoaster rides.”
Soobin breathes in the answer that’s way too innocent, genuine and pure, looking at Yeonjun who’s fighting hard to keep his eyes open with overflowing affection and admiration, and nods. “Okay, of course.”
Yeonjun really has the best of answers to all of his questions. He speaks in a way that Soobin can easily comprehend and accept that he ends up effortlessly convinced with almost whatever the older has in mind. He pulls Yeonjun close, pulling the duvet closer to him, keeping him warm. In due time, the sick falls asleep, soundlessly, peacefully at the broad of his chest. Soobin quietly stares, index finger absentmindedly tracing along the cold loop of Yeonjun’s silver earring, and for some strange reasons, Soobin begins to understand.
The next morning, the second thing that greets Soobin after a good morning is are we going to adopt the kids today? He's in dazed at how Yeonjun makes it sound and seem so easy, though he knows that the whole process isn't as easy as it sounds, but under the lazy sunlight and hazy judgment, Soobin smiles. He begins to understand.
Soobin really understands two midnights after.
It’s not hard to understand, really, because the answer is in front of him all along—all this time—and he’s had it once, only that he lost it due to the fogs of his mind, but it’s there. It still is. The same and never changes.
Soobin mumbles incoherent words when he feels a couple taps of his arm, followed by a violent shake on his shoulders.
“Soobinnie, wake up,” a poke at the side of his waist, before another, “Come on, wake up!”
Soobin groans as he forces his eyes open, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard of the bed. He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the dim brightness that illuminates the room, and looks questioningly, annoyingly at his husband who’s sitting at his side, smiling brightly as if he didn’t commit a crime seconds ago.
“You better have a good reason for this,” the younger mumbles groggily, letting out a loud, embarrassing yawn just right after, fighting back the sleepiness that hangs heavy from his lashes.
“Let’s go to the convenience store.”
“Why?”
“I’m hungry, and we’ve run out of ramen already.”
“What time is it now?”
“It’s 2:30.”
“You’re still sick, Junnie, and it’s cold out,” Soobin reminds.
Yeonjun whines childishly as he reaches over to grab a hold of Soobin’s hand before placing the back of it against his forehead. “I’m not. See? I’m good now, and I’ll bundled up if that makes you feel better.”
Soobin gets up wordlessly, because no kidding, saying ‘no’ to Yeonjun is impossible.
Hence, approximately at 2:43 in the morning, Soobin finds himself wide-awake in the midst of sleeping neighbourhood, walking hand-in-hand with none other than Choi Yeonjun. The walk is silent, only the sound of their hollow footsteps can be heard, but they aren’t bothered really. After all, quiet hours is one of their many things, too, and not too long after, they arrive at the convenience store.
It seems as if nothing changes at all; it feels like déjà vu all over again. They walk in, and Soobin catches the little shriek the girl at the cashier lets out once her eyes set on Yeonjun, or him—he doesn’t know—because he notices the small gasp she makes when they hold eye-contact, too. Soobin trails after his husband, standing by his side at the isle as the older picks the spicy jjajang noodles, one that was out of stock that night but is available now, and then proceeding to get almond milk for himself and a banana milk for Yeonjun. He also gets the ready-made tteokbokki and triangular rice balls, and the two walk over to the counter to pay for the food.
The girl sheepishly smiles, but she talks in a normal tone, unlike how it was the other night, to which Soobin mentally appreciates. “Would you like me to reheat the food?”
Soobin nods with a smile. “Yes, please.”
And as the girl puts the food into the microwave at the other end of the counter, Soobin can’t help thinking how it’s possible that for things to remain the same and yet they feel different all at once. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing Yeonjun who’s all layered with his (Soobin’s) sweater, a beanie on his head and a scarf around his neck, and a pair of baggy, faded sweatpants. He looks ridiculously smaller like that, and when he turns to look at him in confusion, Soobin shakes his head and flashes his million-dollar-worth smile.
“Hey, Soobin, do you know how to do a CPR?”
Soobin figures it’s just another random question that Yeonjun has in his head, oblivious to his antic.
“That’s so sudden. Why?”
“Because you take my breath away with that smile.”
Soobin blows his cheeks in an attempt to stop the embarrassed, cheeky grin that’s threatening to break upon his lips. A faint chuckle that echoes from across them reveals that the painfully embarrassing pick up line wasn’t only heard by the two of them, but also the girl who’s kind enough to let it pass. Soobin can’t help but to blush a little, face-palming himself in hope that the second-hand embarrassment would magically perish.
After paying, the two make their ways to the same table at the front of the store they sat at a few months ago, and begin to eat to their hearts’ content. Light conversations fill them in between every bites, and as Yeonjun helps to tear open his almond milk, eyes focused and lips pouting, Soobin is having some kind of epiphany. He stares and stares, and when Yeonjun hands him the milk, he opens his mouth.
“What will you do next, Yeonjun?”
“Sleep, of course.”
Soobin breathes, and thanks God for the patience. “No, I mean, like next next.”
Yeonjun’s face reacts to the realisation, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. “Oh, oh, well… I don’t know, honestly,” he trails off, head tilting to the side a degree or two as he ponders on the question. “There are many things I would like to do, frankly speaking. I want to travel the world with you, now that we have all the time in the world in our hands,” he speaks in such genuineness, and Soobin hates the way he melts into a puddle of mess at that. “I would also like to open up my own agency, and self-produce my own albums or some sort. I would love to try out designing my own clothes, and maybe having my own clothing line. Kids, I would love to have kids and being parents with you, too, and have a little family I can call my own. There’s a lot but I think for now I’ll just go with the flow, moving at my own pace. But most importantly, whatever it is I’ll do, wherever it is my feet will bring me, I want to have all of them with you.”
Soobin wants to cry out of the pure joy he’s feeling at the thought that Yeonjun isn’t entirely dropping his glorified life. He still holds it in his hands, carrying it with him, only that this time he’s not hiding Soobin from that world anymore—he’s including him, and Soobin is ecstatic that Choi Yeonjun isn’t less of himself even when he has decided to pick Choi Soobin, too. The weight of guilt, doubt and insecurities that had been residing on his shoulders from two weeks ago are lifted and dissipated into the thin, chilly air, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He breathes easily, liking how smooth the air fills both of his lungs and chest, light and seamless.
On the way back, under billions of dim-lit stars and a ridiculously beautiful crescent moon overhead, in between two streetlights, in the middle of the luxurious neighbourhood, in the loud quietness of the night, Yeonjun whispers something in the lines of let’s begin again, for real this time that Soobin fails to thoroughly comprehend. Yet, he understands. He looks, and he sees warm red, optimistic yellow, and calm blue, and all of brilliant rainbows that make all of Yeonjun, and he sees all the colours he can’t put a name to them all in Yeonjun alone. It’s not an earth-shattering whisper like before; instead it feels like safely landing his feet on the ground of reality. Soobin manages a barely noticeable nod, and that’s when Yeonjun leans in.
Yeonjun pulls Soobin down by the string of his hoodie, and unlike how it was many nights ago, the way he places his lips against Soobin’s is slow and gentle. Careful and graceful. Yeonjun isn’t rushing—Soobin can feel through the tender and delicate movement of his lips—because Yeonjun isn’t chasing time anymore, and though the world he’s had many months ago has broken apart, he has a new one now. The ground beneath their feet doesn’t feel like it’s going to break open and swallow them anytime soon; instead it feels solid and secure. They have all the time in the world, Soobin has never felt safer, not until that moment.
“God, Choi Soobin, I love you,” Yeonjun murmurs huskily against his lips and Soobin’s internal goes into a haywire at the sensation of Yeonjun’s shaky breaths on his jaw. “I really love you, like I have all these things in my head that I’m dying to say, but they all come to one, really, and that’s I love you.”
“I know,” I understand, because it’s very much obvious in Yeonjun’s every action, evident in his longing and yearning gaze though Soobin’s just in his reach, loud in the way he utters his I love you’s and uplifting compliments and mortifying pick-up lines. He understands, because Yeonjun picked him once 6 years ago, and he picks him now, like how he’d always pick Yeonjun in this lifetime, and all the lifetimes that will come after. It’s as simple as that, no reasons and explanations needed, because as long as he stands in his shoes and not Yeonjun’s, he would never understand why Yeonjun picks him. He would never understand because he doesn’t see himself through Yeonjun’s eyes. All he knows is that he wants to love Yeonjun just the same, and he knows he can love well because he’s loved well. “I love you too.”
When Yeonjun kisses him again, sending his heart soaring with his wedding ring pressing cold against the crook of his neck, Soobin figures he doesn’t need to understand all the whys; he only needs to understand that Yeonjun loves him, not for a because, but for a no matter what.
chyeonjun are you religious? because you’re the answers to all of my prayers ;D @chsoobin
Soobin looks at the photo of him and Yeonjun that they took during Yeonjun’s predebut days. They were in small, secluded café near his former company; Soobin was in white shirt with an outerwear of the same shade with jeans, Yeonjun was in his favourite blue-white stripes shirt that he loves so much, with plaid jeans. They had the same ‘V’ pose, and equally soft smiles on their lips. It feels nostalgic somehow, because it feels like yesterday, and yet it feels so far away, too. It doesn’t make sense how time barely exists when it comes to Choi Yeonjun. He then proceeds to read the caption, and cringes, but really, he won’t have him any other way.
chsoobin commented on your post: barely see you prayin but ok i'm glad theyre answered i guess :///
it finally marks the end of this fiction! thank you so much if you’ve made it here, from the beginning until the end, and i hope you had such an enjoyable ride through all the ups and downs! honestly, initially i planned to end it with a sad ending (during the first few chapters), and i even had a couple people reaching out to me and told me to end it with an angst, but i reconsidered after reading a lot of yeonbin AUs on twt that ended with sad endings and it made me so freaking sad, so here we are! lmao kudos and comments are always appreciated, and i really hope to see you in my other fic(s) (the moment i saw you (the magic began)as well! thank you! scream to me here for the last time juseyo! <3