Work Text:
Sunoo feels like crying, but he blinks back the tears threatening to fall.
He inhales…one…two…three…then exhales. Suddenly, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose feels too heavy. He presses his eyes shut, the fluorescent light in his living room too bright for his liking.
"Taehyun-ssi, I asked you to revise this last week." Sunoo exasperated, voice already hoarse. "This thing is due tomorrow. When do you plan to give me your part?"
From the other side of the call, he hears the booming electropop music and the head-splitting roar of the crowd, people chanting "shot! shot! shot!" here and "bottoms up! bottoms up!" there. His brows knit in dismay at the fact that his presentation partner is out there, clubbing, while he's stuck at home, on the verge of another breakdown.
"Su—I'm sor—end you the file whe—I promise!" Taehyun yelled from his end.
“Are you in a club right now?”
The answer to his question came in the form of a whopping “geonbae!” in the background.
“Listen, you little shi—,” he pauses, breathes in through his nose and out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry, what?”
"I said, I can't hear you. Can you please," he begs, trying his hardest not to lash out, "go someplace quiet?"
"I'm sor—wait—"
The hoots and cheers are watered down to whispers. A definitive click follows.
“Right, I’m sorry, Sunoo-ssi,” Taehyun slurred. "I'm gonna send the revisions to you later, I promise."
Sunoo feels heat expand from his chest, up to his neck, outwards to his ears, and into the corners of his eyes. The guy has been telling him exactly that, and yet here he is, still begging for the revisions a week later.
"Taehyun-ssi, may I remind you that this is a pair project, and I need you to contribute at least a decent quality of work."
"So, you're saying what I did is trash?" There is a bite to his tone and Sunoo didn’t even try to hide the scoff that ran harshly past his lips.
The fucking audacity… I can't believe someone applies in college without knowing how to properly write a research proposal.
"I didn't say that, but there are things you have to revise—a lot of it. We can't submit our paper as is if we want to pass this subject." As much as his throat is itching to spit fire on this… person, he knows provoking the other (even when he rightfully deserves it) would be counterproductive.
As always, Sunoo endures.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I gotta go. Just wait for the file later," then Sunoo heard a beep. He stares at his phone, disbelief painted all over his face.
So this is what I get for doing my part? I hope you choke on your fucking vodka and it spurts out of your nose, asshole.
Sunoo breathes, hoping that a surge of patience and a boost in his resolve come with the lungful of air. His eyes stray towards the digital clock displayed at the center top of the wall, across from where he's sitting: 11:24 PM flashing in bright red.
12:30 AM. If he doesn't send me anything by then…
Then he'll probably (definitely) do the whole presentation on his own again and just type a script for that ass to follow. He hates how he can't even kick him out of this project because, according to their professor, and he quotes, "work as a team, build rapport, I value that more than the content itself."
“Let’s get this degree, I guess.”
He wants to tear his fucking hair out.
12:30 AM came by in a blur of Psychology jargon, and a ding in his laptop pulled him out from the pool of clinical terms and diagnostic criteria he’s submerged in.
From [email protected]
Date 03/13/2022, 12:31 AM
See the attached file.
["attachment"] ["researchproposalonbdII.docx"]
He clicks on the file, eyes immediately skimming through thousands upon thousands of words of heavy TNR, size 12, in an eyesore called single spacing. When he reached the last page, he realized… Taehyun didn’t revise shit. Nothing changed. He only resolved the comments and unfilled the highlighted parts.
Sunoo’s hand clenches tightly around the bluetooth mouse he just got last week (since the built-in one had decided to give up on him at year six). He bites his lip so hard it might bruise the next day. He removes his glasses, one of its temples catching on his piercing in his haste. He closes his eyes for a good minute before letting his head fall on his wooden table with a loud thump.
It's halfway to 1:00 AM, he still has a couple of things to do, and yet here he is, saving himself from a potential 1.75 from a major subject because he has an incompetent little shit as a partner.
Sunoo knits stuffed toys and clothes, and he sells them online. His shop has become pretty known recently, which is why he's been getting more customers too. It’s a passable source of income since he’s able to grow back 20% of his capital, but it’s another thing that vies for what little time he has allotted on rest and leisure.
He needs to sleep if he wants to function reasonably well later in his 6:00 AM shift. But with the quality of his partner’s work, it's impossible to wrap up the proposal as per his schedule. He actually expected to accomplish at least 25% of the orders, then squeeze in at least an hour or two of sleep—a very much needed one if he wants this seemingly constant pain in his right parietal region to go away—but, it seems that he has to forgo his plans.
“Goodness… someone save me.”
As if the divinities had heard his pleas, a familiar ringtone blasts from his phone’s speaker. The do not disturb mode blocks all notifications, messages, and calls from everyone so he can focus better. Except those from his boyfriend.
“Hello?”
“Hi, love.”
“Hi, hyung.” Sunoo sighs, relief flooding his chest after hearing his boyfriend’s voice for the first time in the last 48 hours.
“You weren’t replying to my messages so I got worried.” Jongseong clears his throat on the other line, his tone taking on a softer, mellower tinge that makes Sunoo want to melt into a little puddle of hearts and glitters.
“’M sorry. My phone is on dnd the whole time,” he murmured.
“No need to apologize. By the way, did you eat?”
As if on cue, Sunoo feels his stomach churn. He’s silent for a few seconds, contemplating whether to tell his boyfriend the truth or not. He knows Jongseong will only worry when he finds out that the only decent meal he’s had for today consists of two pieces of bread, two tall glasses of iced caramel latte and one of iced americano.
He doesn’t want his boyfriend to worry, but he also doesn’t want to lie, so he chose a safe answer—hopefully.
“I’m full, hyung.”
It’s true. Not in a desirably healthy sense, though.
Jongseong is quiet on the other line, the soft whirring of his air conditioner in the background causes beads of sweat to form on Sunoo’s forehead.
“Okay. Are you going to sleep after this call?”
Well, that was… easy. He brushes it off, thankful the other didn’t choose to press further on the topic.
“Nope, I still have things to do, hyung. I’ll sleep when I can,” he tried to sound reassuring but he’s fully aware that it’ll take so much more than that to convince Park Jongseong that he will sleep after.
“Hmm. I’ll leave you alone, then.”
“Al…right.” Silence.
“Do you have anything to say?”
“Hmm? Do you have something you wanna hear from me?”
Sunoo backtracks. “Nothing. Good night, hyung.”
“Good morning, you mean. I love you, Sun.”
“I love you, too.”
Then a beep.
The moment Sunoo puts his phone away so he can get back to work, he feels a tiny itch of disappointment clawing at the back of his throat.
He didn’t even ask if I was okay or what I’ve been doing…
Sunoo harrumphs before getting back to work.
He's in his second cup of coffee for the day (fourth within 24 hours) when he feels a sudden hit of nausea. Something feels stuck in his chest, his own breathing erratic, heartbeat chaotic in his ears, competing with the pounding in his head. He wants to throw up, but he hasn't eaten anything so nothing will come out and his stomach will only eat itself more.
Sunoo feels dread slowly creep in his chest when he's too dizzy to even stand, his limbs feel like lead. He's palpitating, which happens a lot considering how he's often fatigued and how his body probably contains 70% coffee and not water. It's a little alarming, but he's grown used to it, knowing well it'll subside after a few minutes.
He falls limp, back hitting the sofa a little too hard. He lets the faint feeling swallow him bit by bit.
It hasn't even been a few minutes when his doorbell rang, cracking his heavy lids open against their will. Sunoo doesn't know how he was able to drag himself towards the door, but he did. He feels like he's floating, his mind teetering dangerously from being conscious to not.
His actions are cautious, albeit sluggish. Whoever is on the other side of the door, at this ungodly hour, can be anyone since he's not expecting a visitor at all. One hand on the knob, the other poised overhead with an umbrella he snatched along the way, ready to strike, he calls with all the remaining strength he has.
"Who is it?" Sunoo hopes it’s loud enough to catch the attention of his neighbors in (the unfortunate) case that the person outside is a criminal of some sorts.
"It's me, Sunoo-ya."
"Jongseong-hyung," Sunoo choked out. He swings the door open, the wind hits his face like a splash of cold water, pulling him out of his hazy, light-headed state.
"Hi, baby," Jongseong whispered with a smile just as beautiful as it is warm. The sight of his boyfriend’s pretty face, his crooked smile that gives birth to an adorable dip on his left cheek, his voice soothing Sunoo's nerves he didn't even notice were in haywire, and his delicate gaze that somehow reduced the thrumming in his head to a steady, welcome buzz.
Sunoo feels his knees buckle, and there's nothing else in the world he wants to do but to crash into Jongseong and disappear in the confines of his arms.
So, that's exactly what he did.
He collapses onto Jongseong, eliciting a small oomf from the latter at the impact. A mix of sweet, minty, citrusy scent shocks his senses but it wasn’t unpleasant. It should’ve been heady but the effect on him is quite the opposite. In fact, Jongseong smells like his favorite balm, the one he uses when his head aches too much or when he needs some help in falling asleep.
He basked in it for what felt like hours, until he felt a chill in his bones and the hairs on his skin shoot up.
“I know you missed me a lot but can we get inside first? It’s almost winter, love. You’re gonna get sick.” Sunoo only hums in response. Jongseong guides them both inside, waddling like penguins attached to the chests because they refuse to let go of each other.
"It's the crack ass of dawn. Why are you here?" Sunoo whispered, his forehead connected to Jongseong's chest as his freezing hands grip the lapels of the other's coat. He hasn't seen his boyfriend in days… or weeks? He's not even sure, the concept of time and day had been woozy to him lately.
His boyfriend raises a defined brow. "What do you mean, 'why are you here'? Am I not allowed to visit you?"
Sunoo chuckles, eyes sparkling as they meet with the warm ones he didn't even realize he had missed so much until a few seconds ago. "You know I don't mean it like that. It's not safe to go out in the wee hours. You should've texted me first, I could've been asleep or something."
"But you aren't. I'm sure you'd be awake because it's midterms week, and you never sleep earlier than 5:00 AM," Jongseong jested, but the miserably concealed reprimanding tone is crystal clear to Sunoo's ears. He answers it with a peck on the other’s cheek.
Now that the autumn chill is out of the way, Sunoo feels the cold plastic bag that had been touching the thin fabric of his shirt. Jongseong steps away just as quick, bringing up the bags carried by both his hands.
"Can I use your kitchen?”
“As if you even have to ask.” Sunoo begrudgingly detaches his grip on Jongseong's coat and steps aside, curtsying as he shows his boyfriend the way to the kitchen he has carved his existence into.
"I brought ingredients, figured you probably haven't had a proper meal because you do tend to forget that you're a human being who needs to eat and sleep when you're busy." Jongseong seemed annoyed but Sunoo knows he’s just like that—a little aggressive in his approach, but he’s literally the softest softie he’s ever met. He didn't bother defending himself since it’s true anyway.
Jongseong made a beeline towards the cooking utensils and appliances, navigating through the quaint little space with familiar steps.
"What are you cooking?" Sunoo trails behind him, still a little slow in his steps, careful not to stumble.
“Sweet and sour chicken, plus fried rice.”
"Oooh." Sunoo leans against the doorframe, gazing at his boyfriend bathed in the warm glow of his cheap fairy lights dotting the walls of the kitchen. Jongseong had argued how impractical and unnecessary they are but Sunoo's glad he insisted because it made the rented place feel more like home, especially with Jongseong in the middle of everything.
It was short-lived as his boyfriend flicked the switch on, momentarily blinding Sunoo with the sudden flood of bright light. He unplugs the fairy lights next, then unpacks the stacks of Tupperware from the plastic bags. He places some of it inside his refrigerator, unbothered to hide the grimace on his lips as soon as he discovers its contents.
“You need to stock up on food, Sunoo-ya, not ice cream and cans of caffeine and chocolate. Do you honestly want to drop dead on the floor? You're not even sleeping enough." Jongseong mumbled the last sentence. Sunoo rolls his eyes in (fond) annoyance and realizes just as soon that maybe he shouldn't have. He wobbles in his place, hitting his elbow on the wooden frame. It made a loud thud, and he winces at the sound than the twitching in his elbow.
Jongseong is beside him in a flash, a hand already assisting him towards the living room and onto the couch. "See what I mean?" he scolded, but his voice drips more with worry.
Sunoo slowly sinks in the plush seat. He waits for the steady ringing in his right ear to subside and, as if he didn't almost pass out earlier, he opens his laptop to continue his work.
"Sun, please don't be stubborn," he heard Jongseong say. "Why don't you rest for a bit?"
"I can't, hyung. I still have a lot to do," he replied, eyes never straying from the screens of his phone and laptop. Jongseong presses a warm palm on Sunoo's nape, giving the sides a light squeeze. The latter visibly softens upon the gesture.
"You almost passed out back there. A few hours of sleep won’t hurt."
Except, it will.
"I really can't, hyung. I'll sleep after this paper, though. I promise." The exhaustion and urgency in his voice must've seeped through because Jongseong easily gave in. It didn't even come to the point where he has to exploit his charms, which he thinks wouldn't be as effective because he looks like death, and that's nowhere near adorable.
"Suit yourself," Jongseong grunted and left… only to come back after a few seconds.
"Just… don't bring your laptop when we eat." He walks back to the kitchen with heavy steps, each felt like stomping on Sunoo's heart because he knows Jongseong is now 60% annoyed and just 40% worried.
Sunoo tries so hard to focus instead on the blinking cursor on his laptop screen, but it's hard when your boyfriend radiates sulky energy, evident from the occasional thuds of the pans, the tupperwares, and the forceful thump of his refrigerator door.
Please go easy on the ref because I still have four months of installment left.
Sunoo pinches his eyes closed and let his boyfriend be.
He is knee-deep in listing off the diagnostic criteria for Dysthymia when he felt a hand ruffle his hair. He looks up to see Jongseong, no warm smile in sight, though.
"Let's eat," then he disappears back into the kitchen without a word. Sunoo feels his heart grow heavier than his sleep-deprived lids.
He chose to get up, his feet dragging him to the bathroom. He washes his hands first, then his face, the water barely effective in jolting his nerves awake.
Another cup of coffee would've been better, but he'd rather have a soaking neckline than an angry boyfriend to accompany him for the night—or morning, whichever it is.
Sunoo emerges from the bathroom, welcomed by the sight of Jongseong standing in the middle of his room. He watches the older reach for the towel folded neatly in one of the bedside drawers before trudging towards him. He wipes his face with gentle dabs, drying the thin layer of sheen dripping to soak his clothes.
The frown on his lips is telling enough that Sunoo should have brought the towel himself to the bathroom.
Jongseong strides toward Sunoo’s cabinet and rummages for a clean set of clothes. He opted for a pair of purple hoodie and pajamas, the one he gifted Sunoo randomly because of the tiny fox prints on it.
"Change your clothes, then come eat with me," is all he said before exiting the bedroom.
Sunoo arrives in the kitchen and sees that everything is already set. Jongseong’s cooking is good for about three to five people, and his stomach couldn’t help but rumble upon the sight.
"You should've at least let me help a bit." He sits on one of the high stools along the dining counter. Jongseong made sure to place every dish within his reach before sitting himself comfortably across the younger.
Maybe he’s still mad, Sunoo thinks, since he usually sits beside him (and if the scowl on his face and the glare he’s giving the chicken is anything to go by).
"It's nothing, so just eat."
"But…" He decided not to push it.
They ate in silence. Sunoo finds it a little funny because Jongseong occasionally fills his plate with food when he sees that he's nearly finished. He scoops more fried rice, puts a good amount on Sunoo’s plate, all the while refusing to even grace the younger with a single glance, refusing to acknowledge every beam he throws his way. Sunoo only shook his head, knowing his boyfriend would come around sooner or later.
When they finished, he insisted on washing the dishes, but before he can utter a word, Jongseong is already clearing the table. He’s quick as he stacks the plates and utensils, bringing them to the sink and leaving no room for Sunoo to help.
“Hyung, you cooked already, so let me wash the dishes this time,” Sunoo firmly said, hovering behind his boyfriend and searching for the right timing to steal the dishwashing gloves from the other’s hands.
“Just finish your paper, Sunoo. I’ll handle this.” Jongseong dismissed him like he’s an annoying kid who won’t let the elders work in peace. He even stepped to the side, obscuring Sunoo’s view of the sink and the dishes.
"If you don't let me help, I will kick you out of my place, hyung," Sunoo mutters in a casual, soft-spoken manner, but it's enough to make Jongseong back away. He’s using the my-place-my-rules card and Jongseong knows he uses it well.
Jongseong shrugs, shaking the water off his hands with a little too much force, droplets of water splashing on Sunoo’s eyeglasses, before stalking off with his hands in his pockets. With a tired huff, he reaches for the dishwashing gloves and continued where Jongseong left off.
He’s being a little frustrating, and Sunoo honestly doesn’t need that now.
It's gonna be okay. He’ll come around, he always does.
After the menial task, he sits back on the floor of the living room and proceeds with his papers. As soon as he starts typing, Jongseong turned the television off and busies himself with his phone instead.
The clacking of the keyboard and the soft whir of the electric fan are the only sounds in the room. No one spoke for minutes—hours. Sunoo pauses to stretch a bit, hearing more than feeling the crack of his bones, his neck, and the pops of his shoulder joints from hunching uncomfortably for a long time. He lets out a tiny hiss when he had rubbed his eyes too much, the skin around it now sore from the repeated friction.
Coffee. He needs coffee because he can't stay awake anymore.
He props both hands on the floor, ready to push himself up, when he hears the faint clink of china before a cup and saucer appears in his line of vision.
"Drink this instead. It doesn't have the same levels of caffeine as coffee, but it's healthier and it can help you relax. An expert said it helps with your dopamine levels and inhibits cortisol so you can still stay awake while feeling less stressed," Jongseong said all in one breath. Sunoo looks at him with confused eyes, then to the cup of tea atop the wooden table.
"Source?" He blurts out, hoping to lighten the atmosphere that’s been weighing them down.
"My family doctor," Jongseong mumbled as if he's embarrassed with that piece of information. Sunoo lets out a giggle before reaching out and pinching his boyfriend's cheek. "Thank you, hyung."
Jongseong only nods. Instead of sitting back on the couch, he sat beside Sunoo, leaving a few inches of space before scrolling through his phone once again. Sunoo tilts his head to the side, eyes still trained on the other.
Sunoo has always refused to list off reasons why he loves him when Jongseong asks. He doesn't want to rely on reasons, because reasons are futile when it comes to our fickle minds. He'd rather rely on feelings, and now, Jongseong makes him feel loved. He always did, always does, never once failed to leave traces of his heart in the littlest of actions and in the quietest of words he offers.
Sunoo once expected feelings to be fiery, intense, compelling, but what he feels for the other isn't anywhere near those and he's glad. That kind of love burns, drains, and eats away at his resolve slowly. That's not for him.
What's for him is peaceful, warm, and comforting. Something steady and constant. Someone only Jongseong can make him feel.
"What?" Jongseong asks when he notices him staring for too long.
"I love you," he solemnly replied, and Jongseong isn’t ready for that. Good thing the floor is carpeted, or else there will be a visible crack on his phone by now. A smile almost splits his face in half.
"Silly," he replies before leaning in to give his boyfriend a peck on the tip of his nose. "I love you, too." Sunoo flushes pink despite what little blood is probably left in his anemic state.
"Can I help with anything?" Jongseong inches closer, the bit of space he deliberately left earlier now gone.
"Business Management doesn't exactly cover the Diagnostic Statistical Manual of Mental Health Disorders, so I'm good, hyung," he answered as his fingers continue to type away.
"How about KnitKits? Do you need help in making the orders?"
"Do you know how to knit?"
"I can learn. I'm a fast learner, you know."
"Fast enough to finish two bucket hats and a sunflower today?"
Jongseong went silent at that. Sunoo gives him that look—the one where he side-eyes him, followed by a subtle roll of his eyes and the accompanying smirk like he's above him or something—plastered all over his face.
He huffs. "Don’t get too cocky, you brat. Give me a day or two and I’ll be on your level."
Sunoo laughs, unconsciously leaning towards to Jongseong like he’s gravity, eyes are like pools full of mirth. “Whatever helps you sleep, hyung. Whatever helps you sleep.”
Jongseong inches closer and wraps his arms around Sunoo’s waist in a back hug, his hands fiddle with the lint littering the fabric of the younger's hoodie.
"I'm sorry, by the way. I shouldn't have acted like that. You don't need that right now." Jongseong mumbled against the crook of his neck, creating ripples of goosebumps on his skin. The clacking on the keyboard stops and he sinks in the embrace like its quicksand, reveling in the warmth.
Sunoo gently taps Jongseong’s arms, signaling him to loosen the hug so he can face him. Jongseong almost lets go of him completely, but Sunoo snatches his arms and encircles them back to his waist. He rests his hands on Jongseong’s shoulders as he stares at the kindest eyes that have ever laid their gazes upon him.
"I didn’t appreciate that you got all sulky but I understand where you’re coming from. I’d be annoyed too if my boyfriend is being stubborn when all I’m trying to do is to make sure he’s not subjecting himself to an early funeral appointment.” They both chuckled at the last part.
“Which reminds me, thank you for taking care of me tonight, hyung. To all the days and nights you did, and to the future ones you’re about to do.” Sunoo audibly sighs, tucking stray strands of his pretty Jongseongie-hyung’s hair behind his ear.
“What did I even do to deserve you?” It sounded like a prayer, a silent reverence in Sunoo’s voice no divine being has ever had the opportunity to bear.
Jongseong, ever the object of such admiration, holds his hands like they’re porcelain, careful and delicate.
“You didn’t do anything to deserve me. I'm always bound to be with you no matter what.” Jongseong’s words sounded like lullaby to his ears, and Sunoo found comfort in knowing that in this life, he got the chance to be with Park Jongseong, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
"I'm gonna kiss you," he said in a tone that's not even asking for permission, but Sunoo didn't lean in until Jongseong nodded, a shy smile painting his lips.
It was slow, deliberate, easy, like all the kisses they shared in the duration of their relationship. Their lips have grown accustomed to the movements, almost like muscle memory. Sunoo knew without much thought that Jongseong likes his lower lip sucked, nibbling at the scar in the middle. Jongseong knew Sunoo doesn't like it when his teeth graze too harshly, so he cushions every kiss with a flick of his tongue. Their lips danced like performers honed by years of experience, but the bursts of emotions blooming in their chests shock them every time, like first-timers, like they're never really gonna get used to the feeling.
All of a sudden, Jongseong tastes a metallic tang. Worried that he might have bitten Sunoo's lips too much, he breaks away from the kiss.
What welcomes him is not a bleeding mouth, though.
Sunoo, beautiful as always, with a streak of red marring his plush, swollen lips, coming all the way up from his nose. Sunoo noticed it too as he swiped a finger across his philtrum, his expression didn't even change at the sight of the blood like he's used to it.
He chuckles. "Well, that was gross." He quickly wipes off the blood as soon as his hands get to the tissues from underneath the table. He tries to stand, his world wobbly like he's inside a vast gelatin dome.
Jongseong had come to his senses in time to assist him towards the kitchen sink. Sunoo tilts his head down, removing the tissues he stuffed in his nose to let the blood trickle down the drain.
“Let me see,” Jongseong muttered, guiding the other to face his way, holding him like he’s going to crumble any minute under his touch.
"It's just a little bit of blood, nothing out of the ordinary. I'll be fine, hyung." Sunoo consoles, a hand coming up to gently pat Jongseong's cheek.
Jongseong reaches for his handkerchief in his back pocket, using it to wipe Sunoo’s face dry. He’s gentle in his ministrations, eyes flitting everywhere except straight in the younger’s eyes.
“Do you know epistaxis can mean a number of things? You say this is ‘nothing out of the ordinary’ so that must mean this happens a lot. What if something severe is going on with you? What if it’s not just a capillary anymore but your carotid artery as the source of the bleed? I know that’s rare but what are the odds, right?”
A lone tear escapes from the corner of Jongseong's left eye. The sight renders Sunoo rooted in his spot.
One became two, then three, then four, then it’s raining and the clouds are his eyes. Jongseong lets out a particularly harsh sniffle, clearing his throat aggressively.
“How can I help? Do you want to set an appointment for a check-up? I can handle that.” He spoke casually, as if his tears aren’t cascading down his cheeks like racers vying for the finish line, located on his chin and his neck, all the way to the fabric of his sweater.
Sunoo stares at him in bewilderment. "Why are you crying?"
Jongseong rarely cries.
There was a beat of silence that bounced off the four walls of his shoe-box apartment, much louder than the tamed ringing in his ears.
"Because you won't," Jongseong despairs.
He tilts his head back, willing the tears to retract their presence. He heaves a breath as deep as the junction that has taken permanent residence under Sunoo’s eyes.
It’s… a weird feeling, Sunoo thinks.
“Why?” He wasn’t being ungrateful, he’s just curious.
“You think I don’t notice all the times your eyes are being watery since I came here? You think, after all the times I’ve been with you, that I can’t recognize the changes in your expressions, the nuances in your tone or in your words? Or, at least, how you look when you’re about to cry? Give me some credit, Sunoo-ya.” Jongseong whispered, the corner of his mouth slightly quirks up, indicative of anything but happiness.
He walks a little bit closer, hands cupping the other’s cheeks, his lips grazing Sunoo’s forehead, barely touching the skin but Sunoo felt the burn nonetheless.
“I wish you’d care for yourself more.”
“Do you pity me?” Sunoo asked, closing his eyes with an exasperated sigh.
“I can’t help but pity you at times, especially when you’re like this, acting like you don’t deserve a break.” Jongseong breathes, the thumping of his heart in sync with the pulsating vein in Sunoo’s head.
“Are you mad?” Sunoo asked.
“Not really. But, I am frustrated.”
“At me?”
“Not at you, no. Not for this kind of thing.” Jongseong exhales, prying himself away from the warmth of Sunoo’s space. Sunoo notices Jongseong’s puffy eyes, his nose that took on the color of his pink cheeks, smeared with the trails of tears Sunoo refuse to shed. He reaches up to wipe them using his thumb, Jongseong leans in to the touch.
“No one likes to take the hard path, hyung. But, not everyone has the luxury of having options, you know? Some people are left with too limited choices. This or that: sometimes, one choice is worse but essentially, the other one is just as bad.”
Jongseong didn’t answer but Sunoo knows he understands. He’s Park Jongseong, of course he’ll understand. That's just how he is, and Sunoo still wonders how in the world did he manage to make such person love him.
"I wish time would stop,” Sunoo blurts out. “Maybe then, I can take a break without feeling bad about it."
"Actually… wait—" Jongseong unclasps himself from Sunoo, to which the latter looked at him with mild confusion. Sunoo sagged a little at the lack of comforting presence, but Jongseong moved with quick actions, walking towards where the switches are. He turned off the light and plugged in the fairy lights Sunoo fought him tooth and nail just to buy. It's good that there's no clock in sight to taunt him of what little time he has to accomplish overwhelming tasks.
Sunoo didn’t have time to dwell in it when he felt a pair of arms encircle him, washing him over with warmth and comfort once again.
"There. It isn't much, but I hope this helps," Jongseong whispered softly in his hair, hugging the younger closer, letting everything fade away with the dim glow of his surroundings.
Time didn't stop, of course, but he likes to think that he's in a different dimension where it did.
"I can do this, right? I can push through?"
"Of course. I believe you can, and I'm here to help. We can push through, Sunoo-ya.” Jongseong rubbed circles on his back, soothing like his favorite mint balm.
He sags in Jongseong’s arms, his knees buckling under the weight he’s been carrying on his shoulders. Jongseong slid down with him, both slumping on the cold tiles of his kitchen floor. The tension he didn’t know had pulled all his nerves taut ebbs away like rabid waves pulling back from the shore, giving him an opportunity for a little peace and quiet. He feels bone-tired and for once, he openly admits to himself that he should probably rest.
Jongseong reclines further in his position, like Sunoo’s personal sofa bed. He places the younger’s head against his chest as he hums a familiar tune, one hand carding the tufts of Sunoo’s raven hair while the other draws soft, careful hearts on the back of his hand.
“You can cry now, baby.”
Sunoo feels like crying, and this time, he lets his tears soak the fabric just above Jongseong’s heart.