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“Figures, people who live here are all kind of eccentrics,” Moonjo says, trying to sound as supportive as he can, but his monotone voice slips in anyway, making it seem like he doesn’t care at all. He does care. In his own way. And maybe he would sound more plausible if he said something like: ‘Everyone around is murderers. Run away.’ But he cannot say that. He doesn’t want Jongwoo to run away. It would be such a loss.
Jongwoo's face looks troubled. He inhales sharply, looking ahead at the illuminated city, the lights reflecting in his eyes prettily. His teeth dig into his lower lip, chewing on it nervously, and Moonjo watches this movement intensely, maybe a bit too intensely, but it's not like he has control over his behavior. Well, he's usually the master of control of any kind, but when it is the young writer who stands in front of him, things get a little different.
The thing with Jongwoo is that Moonjo feels like he has known him for ages. He has this incredibly strong feeling that Jongwoo is the only one who would understand him. Forgive every flaw. Love him. But he has to take things slowly, because the worst thing that could happen would be to scare Jongwoo off.
“I am scared to sleep alone,” says Jongwoo, in a softer tone than before, his eyes now fixed numbly on the ground.
Moonjo blinks twice. He wouldn't be surprised to hear it, if it weren't for the fact that in Jongwoo's tone, there was a hint of something else, something that wasn't there before. Something akin to shyness? Moonjo is an excellent people reader, yet he has trouble understanding the possibly deeper meaning of Jongwoo's statement. He scans the younger's face carefully, looking for any clues. There is a tiny crease between Jongwoo's eyebrows, and his bottom lip is still being abused by his teeth. Moonjo wants to stop him, tell him that if he keeps doing it, he will eventually pierce his skin to the point of blood. Ultimately, however, he remains silent about it. Deep down, in his most soiled part of soul, he realizes it would be nice to see Jongwoo with blood-covered lips. The thought alone makes him lick his own lips.
At the same time, under Moonjo’s fierce gaze, Jongwoo fidgets a little, he looks like an untamed animal, perhaps even a wounded one, that needs help but is unsure how to ask for it.
“Do you want me to sleep with you?” Moonjo finally asks bluntly, because bluntness is his second name after all. He almost laughs at the way Jongwoo immediately lifts his head to peer at him, eyes wide. So, so endearing. How could he not take a liking to him? Jongwoo appears to be seeking for a sign of a joke on Moonjo's face, but Moonjo makes sure his expression remains completely neutral.
“What?” Jongwoo chokes out, confused.
“Do you want me to sleep with you?” Moonjo repeats nonchalantly, his lips twitching in the slightest of smiles.
It’s the moment when Jongwoo is certain that Moonjo is not joking. Visibly flustered, he takes a small step back. “No, no, I-I mean that would be uncomfortable for you… for both of us.”
“Why?” Moonjo raises his eyebrows slightly, “It’s normal, it’s often what people do when they’re scared to sleep alone,” he shrugs, unbothered. It doesn’t escape his attention how Jongwoo’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
“Wait, um,” Jongwoo pauses to scratch the back of his neck, “You meant sleeping together like… like literally sleeping together, right?”
This time, the corners of Moonjo’s mouth curl upwards fully.
Oh, how innocent of you, darling.
“Of course,” Moonjo nods slowly.
Jongwoo looks relieved, “Oh, okay, good.”
“If I’d meant it in a different way , I would’ve asked differently,” Moonjo mutters, making sure it doesn’t catch Jongwoo’s ears.
“Huh?” Jongwoo tilts his head slightly to the side.
“Nothing.”
Silence falls between them for a moment, from the distance traffic noise of the never-sleeping city can be heard. Jongwoo opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, as if weighing his words. Moonjo continues to study him closely, waiting patiently to hear his voice once more. Honestly, he wouldn't mind standing here in quietness and staring at each other. Silence can sometimes express more than a million words. Especially the silence spent with someone like Jongwoo. But Moonjo knows the younger still doesn't trust him, he keeps his distance literally and figuratively. And Moonjo cannot blame him. He wouldn't trust himself, either.
“Well, so, I really think it’d be weird for us to sleep in the same bed,” Jongwoo says eventually, and he sounds like he’s convincing himself only. It lights a spark of hope in Moonjo's heart because Jongwoo is clearly hesitating . This is a bit surprising, considering his explicit trust issues, but Moonjo can't dwell on it too much, as he focuses on activating his persuasive personality.
“Have you never slept with a man in the same bed?” He asks plainly, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“No,” Jongwoo answers quickly, “I mean, kind of, but no. And I barely know you.”
Moonjo expected such an argument. “I am on your side, you know that.”
“I don’t know that.”
“I just want to help,” Moonjo presses, his eyes never leaving Jongwoo’s.
Jongwoo holds his gaze, “Do you really?”
Moonjo sighs softly. “What should I do for you to believe me?”
Something flashes through Jongwoo’s features that Moonjo doesn’t quite understand. The writer clears his throat. “I-I need time.”
Time. Of course. But Moonjo isn’t known to be a patient man. Yet, he’s aware he is one word away to seem like he's desperate. It would destroy his pretty little façade he’s building so damn carefully. That's why he needs to keep his tongue in check.
“Okay, sure,” Moonjo says dismissively, taking a step forward so that he stands shoulder to shoulder with Jongwoo. “Let me know when you make a decision,” he adds, briefly glancing at Jongwoo’s face for the last time. He doesn’t want to go, but he has no other choice.
He walks away slowly, oh, so slowly, he makes it obvious he wants to stay. His hand already touches the exit door handle, when he hears the subtle timbre of Jongwoo’s voice again.
“Wait,” Jongwoo says loudly yet unsure, and Moonjo’s heart skips a beat or two. The older needs to bite his tongue hard to keep from grinning. He turns around slowly to see Jongwoo standing closer than he expected. He looks like a lost puppy, and it takes Moonjo’s goddamn willpower not to come closer to him and wipe that frown off his pretty face.
“Yes?” Moonjo arches his brow expectantly. He feels like he won already.
“But… the bed is too small for us both anyway,” Jongwoo sounds almost like he’s talking to himself. It seems like he has made the decision already, but won’t admit it.
Moonjo can’t help but chuckle lightly. “We’ll fit.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“But…” Jongwoo starts, but this time Moonjo needs to cut him off.
“Jongwoo. Good sleep is important. I'll just be there, right next to you. I won’t do anything you don't let me do,” he tries to sound as convincing as possible.
“...Do you promise me that?” Jongwoo actually looks defeated. Only in this different light, Moonjo notices dark circles under his eyes. Oh, he must be really tired.
“I promise.”
There’s a pause, albeit a brief one, before Jongwoo finally responds, “Okay.”
“Okay what?” Moonjo has to make sure.
“Let’s sleep toge-, uh, I mean in one bed.”
Moonjo almost jumps from joy.
A few minutes pass, and they are in Jongwoo's room, both already dressed in comfortable clothes. A quite specific tension hangs in the room. Jongwoo leans over the bed and adjusts the pillow longer than he should. His uncertainty could be felt from a mile, it seems as if at any moment he would suddenly say that he actually prefers to sleep alone and get Moonjo out of his room.
Moonjo maintains a serene demeanor, his hands in his pockets, never truly showing how fucking excited he is to be here. After tonight, if all goes well, he will have earned a significant portion of Jongwoo's trust. Ah, how fear forces people to rash decisions. Jongwoo could probably let the devil himself into his room if it were to be equal to a good night's sleep.
Moonjo glances around the room impassively, his eyes lingering longer on the wall in which there is a well-known hole. Good thing Jongwoo hasn't noticed it yet. It’d be quite troublesome.
The whole interior is cramped and not too bright—if depression was a room, this is how it would look like. Moonjo is accustomed to this to be honest, dimmed rooms were always giving him a strange kind of comfort. He's a night owl as well, especially when he gets the pleasure to watch a young writer through the wall.
In the strained quietness, Jongwoo's deep intake of breath disrupts the air flow of the room. He stands up straight, face to Moonjo's, and looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands.
“So, um,” Jongwoo starts, taking a quick glance at the bed, “Should we just-”
Moonjo can’t help but smile softly, “Don’t be so nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” Jongwoo argues immediately.
Moonjo holds back a snort. “I am here so you’re not scared. If you feel like sleeping let’s just lay down and sleep,” he says casually, shoulders lightly moving up and down.
“You know the bed is really small,” Jongwoo looks over the bed in question again, doubt never leaving his face.
“I told you we’ll fit,” Moonjo assures him calmly. He’s fighting the urge to just push Jongwoo on the bed and have him in his arms already.
Jongwoo sighs, looking like he’s just making a life decision. Then, he finally lazily climbs the bed until he is seated on it, knees bent. His side body is pressed stiffly against the wall, as though Moonjo is some kind of wild animal who is about to attack him. At this point, Moonjo thinks that Jongwoo may actually not get a wink of sleep, because of Moonjo’s presence, rather than fear that someone will enter his room with the desire to kill him. Moonjo almost laughs.
He patiently waits for Jongwoo to give permission to get into bed. A second or two flies, and Jongwo gently pats the free part of the mattress. Moonjo doesn't have to think twice to get there.
So here they both sit, the only thing breaking the silence is Jongwoo's heavy breathing. Their arms are touching, the bed is actually super small, and Moonjo is aware they both will fit into it only by some goddamn miracle. A pleasant warmth radiates from Jongwoo, and it requires Moonjo's strong will not to lean closer to the younger. To smell him. Feel him.
“Are you very sleepy?” Jongwoo asks almost innocently.
“Yeah, a bit,” Moonjo lies, he’s not sleepy at all, but wants to lay next to Jongwoo already.
“Okay, then let’s, uh, lay down,” Jongwoo says with a more confident voice. Moonjo rejoices mentally.
Their heads touch when they're finally pressed on the pillow. Understandable. This was what Moonjo expected.
“Oh, do you need a comforter?” Jongwoo asks, voice an octave quieter, as if he suddenly remembered that walls are thin.
“Would be nice,” Moonjo says, sensing Jongwoo shifting and then swiftly covering them both with the dusty comforter. His head comes back on the pillow and Moonjo feels at ease. They both lie stiffly, eyes still open. Their bodies are tightly pressed together, leg to leg, hip to hip, side to side—just like puzzle pieces.
“Are you scared now?” Moonjo asks tentatively.
“N-No.” It didn’t sound convincing.
“You’re safe with me now.” He really is.
“Okay.”
“Let’s just try to get some sleep.”
Jongwoo only hums and nods.
A minute goes by, none of them move. Moonjo highly appreciates proximity and lovely warmth, but still senses some discomfort from Jongwoo. He finds out what’s the reason behind it when Jongwoo opens his mouth once more.
“I don’t really like to sleep on my back,” he confesses.
“Oh,” Moonjo blinks, “Then turn.”
He can hear as Jongwoo swallows hard, then to Moonjo’s surprise, he turns to his side, so that his head is almost resting on Moonjo's shoulder.
Moonjo pauses his breath for three seconds. “Is it better now?” He questions through his dry throat.
“...Yeah,” Jongwoo whispers. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Now, Moonjo feels the intense need to turn. He gently tilts his head to catch a glimpse of Jongwoo’s face, and oh, what a beautiful sight it is. He appears to be at peace, eyes finally closed, long lashes resting upon his cheeks. He seems more relaxed now, his cherry lips slightly parted, almost invitingly, but Moonjo can't think of it like that right now. Like in a daze, he stares and stares until he automatically turns to the side, his nose inches away from Jongwoo's forehead. He controls his breathing to the maximum so that Jongwo doesn't accidentally feel his breath ghosting over his cheek.
Moonjo’s stomach is doing weird flips, and it’s honestly concerning. Never in his life a human made him feel this way, and Moonjo almost starts to question his whole existence. It’s like part of him wants to be genuinely good when he's with Jongwoo, while the other part has a strong need to corrupt him. He cannot afford to have a war in his mind. Not when everything is going so smoothly so far.
Jongwoo’s soft groan interrupts his train of thoughts. He wriggles in place like he’s desperately trying to find the greatest sleeping position. Then, his hands land unexpectedly on Moonjo's chest, and Moonjo’s breath hitches. There is no way that Jongwoo is already asleep. His hands must’ve moved completely intentionally.
To Moonjo's displeasure, he feels his own heart racing in double time, staccato beats drumming against his ribcage. He would be lying if he said he's not afraid that Jongwoo will be able to sense it under his palms. These hands are warm, but Moonjo wishes they were cold, so they would cool him down.
To get his tranquil attitude back, Moonjo gently presses his nose against Jongwoo's hair and inhales, marveling at the faint vanilla scent that fills his nostrils. He hears how steady Jongwoo's breathing is, even too steady considering he was so tense not so long ago, but maybe the exhaustion has led him to drift off so quickly.
Moonjo has to make sure if Jongwoo is sleeping. “Jongwoo?” He calls, barely above the whisper.
“Hm?” It’s a deep hum, sleepy and absent.
So he’s half asleep.
Moonjo makes a mental note that sleepy Jongwoo is a clingy Jongwoo. Not that he minds. It all goes better than he planned.
A moment passes, and it’s Moonjo's turn to make a bold move. As quietly as he can (the bed creaks mercilessly anyway), he lifts his right hand to embrace Jongwoo from the back. His hand gently caresses Jongwoo's back, making the younger once more give a soft purr of pleasure.
It escalated quickly, Moonjo thinks. There isn't a single inch of space between them. They look like good friends, no, not even friends, like lovers , and this thought alone makes Moonjo feel warm in every corner of his body.
His hand moves to Jongwoo’s hair, taking some strands of soft locks and running it through his fingers. In a moment, Jongwoo shifts his face closer to Moonjo's chest so that his head rests just below Moonjo's chin. A small smile flirts around Moonjo's lips, his hand returns to Jongwoo's back, resting there loosely.
Moonjo doesn’t even notice when his eyelids are getting heavy. He originally intended to watch Jongwoo all night, but that task seems impossible now.
With eyes finally shut down, he plants a kiss on the top of Jongwoo’s head. His lips just stay there, as if glued, because at that very moment he dozes off.
His dreams have always mostly consisted of nothingness, deep as the ocean. This very night, however, in the dull darkness, there appear some sparks now and then, like candlelights, and it might be the most colorful dream he has in the longest time.
He wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of Jongwoo's breathing. Hazy and swallowed by shadows, he blinks lazily a few times. It takes him a while to notice that Jongwoo’s arm is wrapped around his torso, and their legs are tangled.
With weirdly heated cheeks, he makes a satisfied sound, then runs his tongue over his dry lips. His mind’s too cloudy to mull over their unexpected position, he just lets his head rest over Jongwoo’s. His lips once again grace the younger’s hair with a kiss.
“My darling,” he mumbles incoherently, then falls asleep again.