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There's a small smile tugging on the visible edge of Hakyeon's lips, so small that Taekwoon almost doesn't see it. But he does, and he marvels, drawn to it like a moth to a lamp because that's what Hakyeon is, what Hakyeon's smile is to him: a beacon in the dark that guides him safely home.
He can't help but reach out to brush his fingers over that subtle curve.
Hakyeon snuffles at the first feather-light touch and Taekwoon stills, holding his breath for a moment – two moments – in worry that he's woken his husband up. Hakyeon has always been a light sleeper, easily startled awake by the slightest of sounds – the creak of a loose floorboard as their cat, Leo, padded about downstairs, for example – and they had just begun their well-earned holiday. Taekwoon would hate to wake him prematurely, not when the other seemed so deep in slumber and looking the most relaxed in months.
But Hakyeon doesn't wake, turning his head just slightly to bury his nose further into the fluffy pillow beneath his head, and Taekwoon breathes again, sighing in relief.
All the same, he draws his hand away and slowly rolls onto his back. His eyes fix on a point of the tiled ceiling and his thoughts turn to the rest of the day. It's still early – both in the day and in their holiday – so he wonders where in their list they should begin.
But first, he thinks as his stomach rumbles quietly: some food.
Hakyeon wanders into the kitchen just as he's finishing making some pancakes, bleary-eyed with one side of his sleeping shirt falling part way down his upper arm. Taekwoon is glad that his hands are occupied with something hot and potentially dangerous if dropped. (He can still feel his fingers itching to reach out and pull the shirt back up, though; or trace over Hakyeon's collarbone – either or, both are just as good in his opinion.)
"Good morning," Hakyeon yawns in greeting, hopping up onto a stool by the island counter. (He's less graceful on mornings like this, and he almost injures himself the first time he tries to sit down.) "Your pancakes woke me up. They always smell too amazing for me to sleep in."
He smiles gratefully at Taekwoon when the taller man slides a plate towards him; and when Taekwoon takes the seat beside him he instinctively leans towards the other, his bed-tousled hair tickling the underside of Taekwoon's jaw.
They eat in companionable silence, broken only by the gentle clinking of cutlery on ceramic plates.
"Did you sleep well?" Taekwoon asks after they've both had a few bites. "You were smiling; you must have dreamt something nice."
Hakyeon doesn't answer immediately, his focus instead on cutting the pancakes into small, bite-sized pieces. When he does, however, his words are not quite what Taekwoon had expected.
"I dreamt that I was a girl called Hakeun," he begins, putting his cutlery down neatly – primly, almost – beside his plate. "She came from a somewhat rich family who lived in the countryside, surrounded by miles and miles of fields and fresh air. One day, a new family moved into the house closest to her family's home and soon, she fell in love with the son of that family. The son, too, seemed to really like her because although he was shy and quiet, he often sent her flowers and wrote her lots of letters when he was away. When they were together, he paid her a lot of attention and he always listened to her carefully. Then, he asked her to marry him, and of course, she said yes. They lived happily ever after in the house his family had moved into and they had four children – four sons called Jaehwan, Wonshik, Hongbin and Sanghyuk."
It takes Taekwoon a moment more to voice the question that forms in his mind once he's digested the story. In a way, he's not sure he even needs to ask it; the blissful quality of Hakyeon's voice as he was telling the story is almost enough of a confirmation. Still, he wants to be absolutely certain, so he asks his question.
"Where was I in your dream? What role did I play?"
Hakyeon's smile is so radiant when he turns to look at Taekwoon – his husband, the love of his life – that for a moment, Taekwoon is dazzled.
"You were the son of the neighbours that moved in, of course," he answers, then leans in for a kiss. "Who else would you have been but the man who I fall in love with, the man who vows to stand by my side?"