Work Text:
As the paints of the world dimmed, the brush strokes becoming undone with every blink, its symphony grew. The strings plucked, as the cars passed by below, swelling to a crescendo each time the lights changed. The keys switched with the pass of time, even though it had only been an hour. Maybe it had been two. The passage of time had felt inconsequential since- since-
Fingers grazed the raised bullet wound, hidden beneath his shirt.
Because time felt stolen, now. Like it wasn’t his. So it didn’t matter how it moved. Forward, fast, still.
There was another change, too. Time smelled stronger. The scent of mornings...had become almost so overwhelming that Jihyun started to sleep in. Or maybe the blanket of guilt weighed too heavy for him to push it off in time. Maybe, it was both.
But the aroma of night had become more of a comfort lately, along with its composition. The mystery, the melancholy of the moon always felt like it dripped in the minor key. But now the twinkling stars echoed the notes his mother used to play, never heard by him from her hand, only from a recording.
But that was okay. He was lucky he even had that. She was immortalised in her music, every note a piece of her given. Jihyun would live on in his photos too - but he felt as if from a distance, rather than sung from the heart like his mother’s legacy. There was something else he needed - he was still trying to decide if he deserved it - but time had at least given him the sense that there was something he needed.
And that was change.
“So this is where Assistant Kang went between 20:57 and 21:14,” said Jumin, his voice softening as he watched the breeze rustle the whisps of Jihyun’s mint hair pulled free from his ponytail. “Parking a blind man on top of C&R in the dark.”
“I did ask,” said Jihyun with a laugh, caught by the wind.
“You didn’t even stop by to say hello.” Jumin rubbed his chin as he stared down at the blanket Jihyun sat on, accompanied by a bottle of their favourite red and two empty glasses.
“That was kind of the point,” he said holding out a hand, beckoning him down. “Surprise?” The breeze didn’t carry away his laughter this time. Jumin caught it instead, giving a smile he kept tucked away only for Jihyun.
But now, it had withered away before Jihyun’s eyes, blurred, darkened - lost - but he knew it was still there.
Jihyun felt him settle on the rug, the strong scent of his office coiling around him in comfort. The hardwood, the polish, the rose pot pourri that Jaehee kept in all the offices, the tinge of leather, and the cologne he used to recognise, but since his sense of smell changed, it changed too.
Jumin was a constant, though - a constant that grew with him.
“Did you just smile?” asked Jihyun, looking up with his greyed eyes.
Jumin had half undone his tie when he paused at Jihyun’s words. “I was-“
Cold fingers glided along Jumin’s jaw. Soft. Still warm, despite being wind kissed. What’s left of his vision grants him a vague blur of colour, enough to let him reach out, and touch.
Touch has changed too. So much, that he craves it like never before. He craved it before to give, to change - the obsession, with hands that tried to mould . Now he craves it, to share - want to want; desire to desire -
-love, to love.
Thumbs stretched up and across Jumin’s chin, finding his lower lip, slack, free from a smile.
“I stole this bottle of wine from your penthouse, by the way.”
Jumin’s lip pulled tight into a smile, a gentle breath slipping over Jihyun’s hand. Thumbs traced the shape, corner, to corner. Familiar, comfortable.
“Jihyun-“
Forehead touched forehead, teal hair bunching as Jihyun whispered a quiet ‘ no’. Jumin sighed, but let it be.
“Not tonight, Jumin. Right now is just wine and us. No surgery talk. You’ve been working for over thirteen hours - I worry.”
“And I worry about you.” The words ghosted against Jihyun’s lips, disappearing into a kiss.
Jihyun closed his eyes, and he could see.