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It’s two in the morning, and Taehyung is regretfully awake, leaning against the headboard of the bed. There’s a small bluetooth speaker on the nightstand, and it’s playing a sleep playlist on loop; Jeongguk sleeps better with music playing in the background. Taehyung has gotten used to his little idiosyncrasies, and now, the sound is familiar. The fairy lights on the opposite wall are the only source of light in the room apart from the dim glow of Taehyung’s laptop.
These are all little things Taehyung has learned to love.
He doesn’t want to be awake. Jeongguk is sleeping soundly, tucked into his side, bottom lip jutted out and drool collecting at the corner of his mouth as the rise and fall of his chest remains constant. He wants to be laying down horizontally, with Jeongguk’s head tucked into the crook of his neck and his own fingers curling protectively around the boy’s thin waist.
Unfortunately, Taehyung is writing a paper for his history of film class he has to take if he’s going to graduate with a degree in acting. He likes acting, and he likes old films. So really, this shouldn’t be as hard as it is. He groans, internally, regretting becoming a sleep-deprived college student.
As usual, Taehyung can’t stop staring at his Jeongguk, staring at the way his eyelashes flutter gently, even in sleep. He remembers how Jeongguk fell asleep. How he crawled up to him, shirtless, when Taehyung had first started his essay (around midnight, because he’s just good at time management like that) and proceeded to sit on his haunches, pouting quietly with widened, innocent eyes until Taehyung gave in and kissed the swell of his lips. He had smiled when he felt the curve of Jeongguk’s grin against his mouth, because it was so easy like this. It was so easy to love like this.
He remembers how Jeongguk had then promptly flopped onto his stomach, promising that he’d stay on his side of the bed so he wouldn’t be a distraction while Taehyung worked. Taehyung had hummed in agreement, amused, not really expecting him to hold that promise. Jeongguk had a habit of pressing closer to Taehyung in all situations, asleep or awake.
Jeongguk had almost immediately begun snoring softly on his stomach, and Taehyung had shook his head fondly, entranced, and reached over to press another kiss to the crown of his boy's head, whispering oh, my sleepy boy against his long black curls. But of course, it wouldn’t last long. Taehyung knew better than that.
And, true to himself, Jeongguk had unconsciously rolled over to Taehyung and unceremoniously shoved his face into his side. When he had first done this, all those years ago, Taehyung had tried rolling him back over, fearing the boy would suffocate with the cloth of Taehyung’s t-shirt pressed against his nose. But Jeongguk would just roll back, still very much asleep, and eventually Taehyung had given up. Now he just makes sure there’s a little pocket of room near Jeongguk’s face so the boy can sleep peacefully.
It’s the small things which Taehyung has learned to fall in love with. He’s had his whole life to practice loving Jeongguk, and he will never get tired.
Jeongguk mutters something in his sleep, babbling incoherently as he somehow turns his body so he’s sleeping on his back. He shoves the side of his head even closer to Taehyung’s side (if such a thing was even possible, but Jeongguk seems to manage), and his mouth falls open a little to breathe evenly. It makes the older boy chuckle to himself, gaze fond as he studies the curves and edges of Jeongguk’s face. The indents around his nose, the eyelashes that splay across his cheekbones, the sharp dip of his cupid’s bow. He’s memorized them a million times over, of course, but he’s never quite been able to get enough of Jeongguk.
He smiles again, lifting a hand from his keyboard to swipe his thumb at the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth to collect some of the wetness that had threatened to drip down the side of his face. Was it gross? Maybe at the beginning. But it’s just another one of those small things, now. Taehyung has vowed to spend all of his days loving Jeongguk. It’s a large promise but Taehyung doesn’t mind the commitment. Has learned to set aside his fears for this darling boy. Jeongguk doesn’t stir apart from a slight furrow of his brow, but it smooths out just as quickly.
He wipes the pad of his thumb against his own ratty t-shirt (some old high school club tee that probably actually belongs to Jeongguk, but at this point their wardrobes have mixed to the point of no return) and tries to turn back to his laptop. He’s writing about silent films, something about Charlie Chaplin and the 1920s. Humming along under his breath to whatever song has begun to play next on the speaker, he opens another tab to google a date.
This paper shouldn’t be taking him all these hours, but he tells himself he owes it to Seokjin to start putting more effort into his work. The graduate has taken to berating him about his grades, and begrudgingly, Taehyung had admitted that he can do much better than the mediocre scores he’s pulling in this class.
Seokjin was right, of course, so here Taehyung is.
He allows himself to card one hand through Jeongguk’s hair (the curls now frame his entire face, and spread out onto the pillow in a way that makes him look almost regal; Taehyung really, really loves how long it has gotten) and types with the other hand.
He’s fully aware that this position is likely not the most productive. He’s not super great at typing with only one hand.
But Jeongguk is so damn distracting, even when asleep. Inadvertently, his attention slides back to the younger. It always does, how could it not? How could anyone not want to spend hours looking at Jeongguk?
The drool has already begun to collect again, something that happens when Jeongguk is especially tired from an exhausting day and he’s deeply unconscious. Taehyung can’t keep the smile off of his face.
He is so, so devoted to his Jeongguk.
The cotton quilt (the one Jimin had made for their apartment and surprised them with when they first moved in) that Taehyung had laid upon Jeongguk’s body when he had first flopped onto the bed is now haphazardly laid across Jeongguk’s waist. He had kicked most of it off, has always had a habit of kicking his blankets off, preferring to gain most of his warmth from Taehyung’s body heat. Taehyung doesn’t mind, even if most of the time it means that the blanket slides off of him, too.
He traces the rises and dips of Jeongguk’s bare chest with his eyes, his gaze wandering over the ridges of his abs and the brown of his puckered nipples, hardened in the cool of the room. The overhead ceiling fan is loud and rattling, but they can’t afford much in the form of good air conditioning, and it helps keep a liveable atmosphere. The noise has long since faded into background noise, mixing almost pleasantly with the music from the bluetooth speaker. One of Jeongguk’s legs is hanging off the bottom of the bed, toes knocking against the wooden frame. His toenails are painted a deep blue to complement Taehyung’s sea green, and Taehyung remembers how that afternoon they had painted each other’s toenails while gossipping happily about Namjoon and his latest fling, about Hoseok’s new hair color, about absolutely everything.
He lets his eyes slowly travel back up Jeongguk’s body one last time before looking back to his essay. He begins to type again, noting that a full fifteen minutes had passed while he had just been gaping at the gorgeous boy tucked next to him. Shaking his head, he forces himself to think once more of Charlie Chaplin. The pads of his fingers clicking on the keys (he tries to be gentle) causes sound to echo in the small room. Oh well, Jeongguk sleeps heavily, anyways.
Mind wandering once again (as minds tend to do at such a late hour, especially when the mind in question belongs to a college student with a penchant for sweet nostalgia), Taehyung recalls the time they had moved into this apartment, fresh out of high school from the sleepy town they had grown up in, using their life savings on a shitty one bedroom-one bath in a cheap apartment complex in Seoul. But they had been young and rowdy boys in love, and though Taehyung is a little older now he’s never regretted a thing (even if sometimes the hot water runs cold all of a sudden and he’s forced to kiss Jeongguk deeper under the freezing spray to try and warm up.) They had giggled and argued playfully over what colour to paint the walls, deciding on soft grey when Taehyung promised that they could hang fairy lights on the wall opposite their bed.
The corner of Taehyung’s mouth quirks upwards when he remembers Jeongguk’s expression when they had first plugged in the fairy lights. His mouth had fallen open softly in awe, and he had turned his gaze—full of starry wonder, full of sprawling galaxies—back to Taehyung after several moments of bated breath.
He had stared directly into Taehyung’s eyes and his voice was steady (though Taehyung suspected he was really close to tears—Jeongguk had always been emotional in this way) when he whispered “ beautiful” into the relative quiet of the room.
And though outside, fifteen floors below, the street was busy and bustling in that way that a city that never sleeps always seems to be, nothing else had existed when Taehyung responded, just as emotional, just as soft and featherlike: “welcome home , my love.”
Jeongguk’s smile is forever tattooed onto Taehyung’s heart.
Taehyung smiles softly at the memory. His gaze flits back to Jeongguk for a second to ensure he is still asleep before he turns his head to face the window, which is draped in sheer, white curtains. (Jeongguk had wanted blackout curtains to keep the room dark, but Taehyung had given him the puppy eyes and Jeongguk had given in without much argument, just because Taehyung likes waking up with the sun’s rays over his face.)
Small things. Lovely things.
Another song starts, filling the room with soft, melancholy cello. Something nostalgic and summer-like, something that Jeongguk had fallen in love with a few years ago, and thus something that Taehyung had grown to love, too. Surrounding the small window are hundreds of polaroids, taken by the both of them over the course of their youth. The first one is dated to almost fifteen years ago, when they were barely brushing adolescence and sported matching wide grins as they posed for a picture with ice cream cones in each of their chubby grips. It was taken on Jeongguk’s birthday, and Taehyung had gifted him a polaroid camera.
The younger had insisted that his first picture had to have his best friend in it, and he had begged his mom to take a picture of them together, faces squished close so they could both fit in the small frame. They had been equally excited for the film to develop, bouncing on their toes as they begged Jeongguk’s mom to let them see.
The latest one was from just the last week, when they had baked a small vanilla cake together for their anniversary and wanted to commemorate the moment. Taehyung has icing on his cheek and on his nose, and he remembers how Jeongguk had kissed it off shortly after the picture was taken. They had fallen in bed together after that, chests heaving with desire and overflowing with love as they traded hot, wet kisses and whimpered promises of forever.
It’s the small things that Taehyung falls in love with, nestled cosily right in between all the big moments he holds close to his heart. He remembers it all. Doesn’t think he could ever forget if he tried.
He’s startled out of his reverie when a car honks outside of the window, sounding unusually harsh for an apartment on the fifteenth floor, and he naturally angles his face back to check up on Jeongguk again without consciously thinking of the movement. It’s just a habit, now. His eyes will always find Jeongguk.
To his surprise, he’s met with large doe eyes blinking slowly, lazily, back up at him. Jeongguk’s mouth is set in a natural pout, evidence of how sleepy he still is.
“Hey, love,” he whispers into the night. “Why’re you awake? It’s late.”
“Could...could say the same,” Jeongguk slurs, still caught somewhere in the throes of sleep, “to you.”
“This essay won’t write itself, darling. Go back to sleep, okay?”
“Do you want…” Jeongguk’s voice tapers off, and he closes his eyes for several seconds in the middle of his sentence. Taehyung thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he finishes, “do you want tea?”
It’s the small things. Taehyung’s smile widens into something even more sticky and sweet, heart swelling.
“Tea?” he repeats, softly, his voice almost nothing. He wonders if Jeongguk can feel his immense love even in that single syllable. He suspects that he might.
“Mhm,” Jeongguk hums, dripping honey. “Peppermint. The….the one you like.” He furrows his brows for a moment. “I think...I got some today. Don’t really remember. M’sorry, Tae. Dunno. Can go check. Yeah.”
He continues to babble softly a bit, stuck somewhere between dreams and reality, eyes fixated on Taehyung.
Taehyung’s heart skips another beat, and he falls impossibly deeper for the lovely boy who’s pressed into him, the boy who’s smiling up at him as if he had hung all the stars in the night sky.
“But you’re already falling back asleep, baby,” he teases, amused. “You’d fall asleep before you managed to get your toes out of bed.”
“I could wake up,” Jeongguk insists, even through a massive yawn, eyelids fluttering as he struggles to keep them open. “Peppermint?”
Taehyung gives in to the urge to kiss him between his eyebrows, and then presses his lips again to his soft mouth. He ignores the tiny spot of drool collected at the corner of Jeongguk’s mouth when he kisses his boy.
Jeongguk is so lovely. Nothing else matters.
“Oh, really?” Taehyung responds, knowing that his voice is dripping with fondness, with love. Can feel it flowing thickly through his veins and can see it reflected in the dim glow that’s causing Jeongguk’s eyes to shine so prettily. “Sleepy, sleepy angel, I don’t think so.”
Jeongguk hums, agreeing without really thinking about it. “Angel,” he repeats, smiling dopily and still blinking up at Taehyung in that slow, somnolent way.
Taehyung knows that if he really wanted tea then Jeongguk would get up immediately, without any complaints, and stumble to the kitchen. But Taehyung’s not about to send him out of bed. He knows how weary the younger must be.
(Jeongguk is so perfect. So, so perfect.)
“What were you dreaming about, beautiful boy?” he asks softly, because he’s wondering. Because even if it’s something small and insignificant he finds himself really wanting to know.
Jeongguk’s eyes crinkle up into something equally fond as he responds, cheekily, endearingly, just because he knows it will make Taehyung melt , “you.”
Taehyung doesn’t say anything in response, but he knows his eyes are expressing full novels. They’ve grown good at this, communicating with their expressions alone. Everything is familiar. Everything between these four walls feels soft, full of love, warm like chambré wine. Taehyung studies the stars in Jeongguk’s eyes and feels home course through his chest, through the length of his body.
“It’s always you,” Jeongguk affirms then, voice uncharacteristically serious in that moment, speaking a simple truth even as he’s half asleep. “And in those moments where you do not grace my dreams I miss you as the sun misses the moon.”
Taehyung can feel himself getting choked up. Jeongguk has always been good with words, good with Taehyung. When Jeongguk shows him songs he’s written, Taehyung falls in love with each lyric as he sees himself reflected in every note. Rhythms of them.
“I can’t believe you’re real,” is all he can say, his essay long forgotten even as his laptop glows harshly, illuminating his features. “I—”
“Shh,” Jeongguk soothes, rising up and leaning on his elbows as he searches the older’s eyes, presses his lips gently back to Taehyung’s. “Come, sleep with me, sweetheart.”
“This essay is due,” he mutters, weakly, helplessly , against Jeongguk’s compelling lips. He’s already half convinced as Jeongguk kisses his blushing cheeks and then begins drowsily kissing downwards, darting his pink tongue out and trailing his wet mouth over Taehyung’s neck, resting at his pulse point.
“You can do it in the morning, Tae,” Jeongguk mutters, eyes fluttering closed as he sucks a dark red mark into Taehyung’s skin. It’s more of an act of love than for a call for sex, this late in the night. It feels good and solid just the same, makes Taehyung feel grounded, and he sighs into the cool of the room, hearing the playlist restart once again.
And so Taehyung sets his alarm on his phone for five in the morning (the essay’s due by seven), and places his phone and laptop on the nightstand.
For a moment they just look at each other, smiling like idiots in love.
“Promise me you’ll be there in the morning?” Taehyung questions, just to hear the honeyed response he knows will come. He curls his toes in anticipation anyways.
“Always,” Jeongguk replies, without missing a beat.
And so he allows his back to slide down the headboard, and his head hits the pillow. He sighs once more in relief as Jeongguk places his head on Taehyung’s chest, positioning himself so his ear is pressed against Taehyung’s heartbeat. He makes a small happy noise into Taehyung’s t-shirt, and the latter gives a small laugh in response. The younger is about to fall asleep again, Taehyung can tell, so he places his palm over the small of Jeongguk’s back and strokes his thumb in small circles. Soft snores once again fill the room.
Vaguely, he wonders what happened to the quilt. He decides he doesn’t care.
Small things.
His mind is still awake, so he watches the ceiling fan turn and listens to the soft music. It’s a lullaby, and somewhere in Taehyung’s mind a memory resurfaces, a vague ghost of a smile while this song played in the background. But with each passing moment he’s falling deeper into unconsciousness, and it’s too much work to remember completely. The sounds of the neon streets outside now only serve to lull him further into sleep.
He listens for the evenness of Jeongguk’s breathing, one more time, just because he can. Just because this darling boy is his.
Slowly, lethargically, Taehyung’s eyelids droop shut, the song changes once more, and he kisses Jeongguk silly in his dreams.