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As Joowon slowly wakes, surrounded by warmth and a familiar scent, he thinks that maybe, it isn’t so surprising that they ended up the way they are now. To some end, this is always how it was meant to be: with Joowon blinking heavily in the faint glow of morning light alongside another person, his eyebrows furrowed as his eyes adjust to the soft, golden hue that seems to flood throughout the room.
Like this, Joowon feels safe. He feels a multitude of emotions, all ranging in depth and volume, but the one that feels the loudest, the brightest, is the simple beat of love. It’s there, all around him, crowding into his space and leaving him feeling just shy of over stimulated, but not in a way he would ever turn away. Love is there in the warmth seeping into his skin, in the heavy weight of a hand at the small of his back; it’s there in the rise and fall of Dongsik’s chest, and it’s there in the way his deep, even breaths lightly tousle the hair at the top of Joowon’s head.
When his eyes finally adjust to the light, Joowon does not ease away from Dongsik, who slumbers peacefully on—and this, too, is another way his quiet, bottomless love unfurls.
He had never been one to simply laze in bed and enjoy the quiet moments that come after waking, but like this, how could Joowon not indulge? It’s another thing that comes to him with little to no surprise: that he allows himself a dollop of selfishness, every now and then, in the light of knowing Dongsik appreciates it just as much as he encourages it.
Goodness, Dongsik had said, many months ago, fond and airy but still tinged with exasperation. His hands had cupped Joowon’s face, thumbs rubbing gently over smooth, tired skin, and despite how his eyes had lingered on the slight part of Joowon’s lips, he had remained steadfast. You should learn to be a little bit greedier, you know? Don’t keep an old man wondering, Joowon-ah, he had teased, and who would Joowon be, if he didn’t take that to heart?
Joowon allows himself these selfish moments, where all he wants to do is give himself wholly over and take as much as he’s given; where all he wants to do is fit right into Dongsik’s side with the hopes of melting together; where all he wants to do is be, and exist, and simply breathe in tide with the man who is kind and patient enough to heal old wounds right alongside him.
Here, he presses in closer, spurred onward by the tidal waves of his love, regardless of how there is already very little space between them. Joowon tightens his arm around Dongsik’s middle, turning his head inward just a bit so he’s able to bury his face in the dip of Dongsik’s shoulder. When he breathes in, all that welcomes him is a rush of familiarity: the woodsy, fresh scent of Dongsik’s body wash and the muted, clean scent of laundry detergent—and beneath it all, a hint of the two of them.
For a while, all he does is breathe his partner in, counting each breath he takes in and every breath he lets go of. If Joowon focused hard enough, perhaps he could even tap his fingers to the repetitive melody of Dongsik’s heart, a steady thump, thump, thump close to his ear—but soon, he grows weary of simply breathing him in. Joowon shifts as carefully as he can, mindful of the arm beneath his head as he extracts himself from Dongsik’s personal space just enough so he’s able to tilt his head back and peer up at him.
In front of him, beside him, Dongsik’s slumber remains undisturbed, and there’s something about seeing his partner so open and vulnerable in the sea of his dreams that has Joowon feeling a touch more emotional than he usually is. He can feel his mouth tug upward in a smile, completely unbidden and almost embarrassing with how quick it comes. His emotions sweep over him, bright and loud and threatening to pour out of him, so much so that he has no choice but to tear his eyes away, to incline his head and allow himself to take refuge against Dongsik’s chest, his face buried into the soft fabric of the shirt he had worn to sleep the night prior.
He catches himself thinking, once again, that it really is no surprise that they ended up the way they are now.
Joowon squeezes his eyes shut, his love and all of his affection lodged in his throat, and he doesn’t even get a chance to try and swallow it down. One moment, he’s struggling to contain it, his heart tight and far too warm where it beats in his chest; and the next, Dongsik stirs awake beneath him, his hand coming up to slide along the knobs of Joowon’s spine only to settle at the nape of his neck.
He’s completely unable to suppress his shiver as Dongsik’s fingers settle against his bare skin; and in turn, Dongsik laughs, a quiet, deep sound deep in his chest.
When Joowon raises his head, his scowl is quick to fade. As he watches Dongsik slowly wake, his eyes a warmer shade of brown than usual in the soft yellow glow casted around them, how else is he supposed to regard his partner if not with fondness? The stampede of emotion comes back, just as fierce and vibrant as before, a moment ago as well as a day ago, a month ago as well as a year ago. Joowon is bound speechless, content enough with watching Dongsik come to life: his eyebrows knitting together, his limbs twitching with wakefulness.
“How long have you been watching me sleep, Joowon-ah?” Dongsik murmurs, his voice deep and tinged with sleepiness.
Joowon makes a vague noise, his smile widening the more his partner gently kneads into the back of his neck. He hadn’t bothered to check the time when he first woke, and by now, the golden hue that had first painted the room has dulled in color; so, maybe he has been doing this far longer than he originally thought. “A while, maybe. I wasn’t too concerned with the time.”
“I see,” Dongsik hums, taking a moment to nod before he smiles, and even with how drowsy he still seems, Dongsik manages to sound as mischievous as he does when he’s fully awake and itching for a reaction. “Not that I’m complaining. Waking up to an empty bed can be kind of lonely, you know?”
“Is this your way of hinting I should do this more often, hyung?” Joowon asks, his own little brand of mischief coating his words—and right on cue, Dongsik’s smile widens at the title, unashamed with how quick it comes and how bright it may seem.
“Only if His Highness doesn’t mind, every now and then,” Dongsik tells him with another round of rumbling laughter, lolling his head to the side if only to get a better look at Joowon. One of the first things he notices is that Joowon’s hair is sticking up in odd places, a stark contrast to his usual, made-up appearance—but Dongsik enjoys, more than anything, seeing Joowon with his guards down. He enjoys these moments how they are: quiet and lazy, where it’s just the two of them in their own little world, set apart from everyone else but not at all hurting for it. Dongsik feels his heart grow, and grow, and grow, impossibly large for how little space there is left in his chest.
Joowon has taken up so much space there as it is, and here is he, claiming even more of it.
But it’s not an odd feeling, not by any means. If anything, Dongsik hopes to experience it more, and more, and more, so much so often that maybe, he would be bound to feel just a little bit overwhelmed by it—except for the fact he never would.
Here, Dongsik hums again. He doesn’t let up the way he’s gently kneading the back of Joowon’s neck as he tells him, just barely above a whisper, “thanks for staying, jagiya.”
Joowon’s eyebrows knit together at that, just a bit: one part curious and another part bashful. Thanks for staying, jagiya, he had said, soft and honest, and it isn’t hard at all for Joowon to pick apart every possible meaning that could be nestled within those words. There are many instances in which he had stayed, and there are also many instances in which Joowon had wished he would have stayed—but now is not the time to open up that particular box of lingering regret, not when Dongsik is looking at him the way he is now, like he’s witnessing something grand, like he’s seeing something no one else could ever hope to see.
“That’s nothing to thank me for,” Joowon assures him promptly, and he tries to convey as much as he can, with those few, simple words. Carefully, he scoots up, crowding even more into Dongsik’s space, his heart lulled to a quiet calm as his body drags against his partners. It doesn’t escape his notice that the hand on the back of his neck never strayed, even as he moved to get closer. It remains there, a steady weight at his neck, more grounding than anything else in the world. “I’ve made a habit of staying, after all. It’s only natural for me to stay, don’t you think, hyung?”
Dongsik’s laugh is more of a huff of breath than anything else, but Joowon appreciates the sound of it all the same. His hand has come to a still at Joowon’s neck, and there’s a moment, here, where all Dongsik wants to do is coax him closer, to watch as his eyes close, to tilt his head opposite of Joowon’s and kiss him until the sun allows the moon to have reign of the sky instead.
“I suppose you’re right, Han Joowon,” he relents quietly, tilting his head as he allows his hand to leave the back of Joowon’s neck, but Dongsik doesn’t go far—and given a choice, he never will again. It’s gentle, just like every other time, as Dongsik places his hand to Joowon’s cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb against warm skin. He wonders if his palm has always fit so soundly to the shape of Joowon’s cheek, and thinks that it must’ve, that there could be no other way. “Should we get ready for the day, then?” Dongsik asks, but in contrast to his question, he doesn’t move an inch.
Surprisingly, Joowon shakes his head; and his bewilderment must be evident in the widening of his eyes, Dongsik thinks, because then Joowon’s smiling at him, small and heartfelt, solely meant for moments like these where it’s just the two of them, where the only set of eyes on him are Dongsik’s.
“I’m not in a hurry,” Joowon murmurs, his gaze trailing down to Dongsik’s mouth and staying there.
Dongsik can’t help it. He has to tease him, gasping in mock shock. “No? Not even to brush your teeth, Your Highness?”
“I’m in no hurry at all,” Joowon tells him, a bit firmer this time, but there’s a small, faint tilt of a plea to his voice that he’s sure Dongsik will be able to hear. His partner must decide to take pity on him then, because despite his laughter and the way his eyes crinkle with his smile, Dongsik is quick to indulge him.
Dongsik’s hands are rough, but his touch is gentle. Joowon closes his eyes as Dongsik’s thumb grazes his cheek, his skin gradually warming beneath such a doting touch—and really, like this, with the world outside faded into the background, with his partner’s body solid and strong and half beneath his own, nothing else matters.
Their foreheads bump together, leaving barely any room between them.
“Hyung,” Joowon whispers, his hand now a fist against Dongsik’s chest. It takes him a moment to shape the next word on his tongue, but once he manages it, the endearment leaves him quite easily. “Jagiya.”
“Joowon-ah,” Dongsik murmurs. “Please. Again.”
“Jagiya,” he says softly, and again, simply because he loves him, simply because he enjoys the smile he hears so evidently in Dongik’s voice, “jagiya.”
Dongsik sighs, a quiet, content little noise that makes Joowon’s stomach twist into knots—and after that, he doesn’t have to wait long at all. Dongsik closes the distance between them quickly, hurriedly, as if he couldn’t kiss him fast enough.
They kiss, over and over, heads tilted to accept every small peck and each wanting breath. It’s unhurried and it’s lazy, tender in a way that has neither of them wanting to part—but it must, at one point, at least come to a pause.
With one last drag of his lips to Joowon’s, Dongsik eases away, another laugh tumbling out of him as Joowon makes a noise of protest.
Goodness, he thinks, as Joowon cranes his neck stubbornly for more, you’ll be the end of me.
“Shouldn’t we get ready, jagiya?”
“I’m really in no hurry,” Joowon insists, sliding the hand not fisted against Dongsik’s chest up to his neck. He sets it there, another rush of bottomless affection crashing through him at the faint feel of Dongsik’s pulse against his palm. “How many times should I say it? There’s nothing else I want to do today, hyung.”
“Ah…” Dongsik hums quietly, his thumb grazing the warm skin of Joowon’s cheek, “alright, okay.” His next words are spoken softly, lips brushing against Joowon’s with every word, “whatever His Highness wants.”