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Summary
Donghyuck watched Doyoung think. He felt like he was being examined, like Donghyuck was taking a fine tooth comb to him to find all the imperfections and irregularities. Digging deep to find something, anything, to chip away at him.
Doyoung wishes he would dig deeper. To see all the fine lines Donghyuck had carved there himself, little crevices for the dust to settle into. His own space right next to the healed wound Busan left.
“I like the East,” Doyoung finally responded, never letting his gaze up.
“Because of Busan?”
“No.” Doyoung scooted closer, laying back down so they were only inches apart. Their knees knocked together as Donghyuck sucked in a breath. Doyoung was leaning in closer and he could smell the tang of salt water on his breath, his skin. “Because every morning I get to meet the sun.”