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A light breeze blows through the open window, causing the blinds to clatter gently against the frame and adding sound to the otherwise peaceful living room. Wonwoo drums his fingers to the beat, mind focused on the laptop before him. He reads over the lines of lyrics he’s been writing and tweaking over the past few days. Behind him, Junhui lounges on the couch, his knees occasionally bumping against the rapper’s lower back when he shifts his weight and changes position.
Not for the first time, Wonwoo smiles wryly to himself as he glances briefly over at his boyfriend. Junhui genuinely does exude the energy of a cat when he’s at home like this: warm, cuddly, quiet. Cute. Well, if cats could use phones. His favorite kitten has been glued to the device for hours now, not that it’s any surprise. Shaking his head minutely, Wonwoo returns to his writing.
Bubbly giggles ring through the silence a few moments later, followed by the couch dipping as Junhui flips to lie on his back.
“What?” Wonwoo asks, throwing a look over his shoulder.
Grinning, Junhui shakes his phone and points to the screen. “I just came across the posts reacting to our new rings. Everyone seems to think they look like wedding rings.” At the notion, he giggles again, hand pressed to his mouth, eyes curving adorably. Putting the phone face down on his chest, he raises his right hand and wiggles his fingers in the air. The ring catches the light and winks. “Twenty-six years old, and already married to twelve men. At the same time, too!” He laughs again. “My mom would be scandalized.”
Wonwoo chuckles, one hand reaching back to pet the boy’s calf.
On any other day, he would have let it go. It’s a joke, a funny comment, a cute remark from their fans. Wonwoo knows it, logically.
And yet the thought of Junhui so casually mentioning marriage to him (and the rest of their band) elicits an odd sensation to rise within him.
He and Junhui have known each other for nearly ten years, been dating for half of the decade. When he visualizes his future, of course he sees himself standing with the twelve other boys, fates forever entwined, thirteen rings shining in the darkness, bond unbreakable.
But on nights where he stays awake and stares up at the ceiling, he allows himself to dive further into that future. Focuses on the faces of his friends, his family. There are doubts—there are always doubts and fears—but they never revolve around the thirteen of them. It’s a given that they’ll always be together, pushing forward as a group, fighting agains whatever challenges may befall them. And in the same vein of certainty, he sees Junhui. The vision shifts and morphs as time passes, the details changing as they grow older. However, the mental picture remains the same.
Junhui at his side, smiling at him, holding his hand. There are two points of light shining from his fingers instead of just one.
Ever since Wonwoo has learned what love feels—tastes—like, he’s known Junhui is it for him. The thirteen of them make promises of forever as a group, but he wonders if Junhui realizes that those words hold a second connotation coming from Wonwoo toward him.
He doesn’t know what urges him to do it. Nothing is prepared. Nothing rehearsed or practiced. They’re wearing lounge clothes, sitting at home on a rare day off. Dirty dishes are piled up in the kitchen sink. The vacuum cleaner lays forgotten in the corner from yesterday’s clean-up. An old bouquet given to Seungkwan from one of his shows is slowly wilting on the dining table.
A romantic scene it does not make.
But for once, he doesn’t think twice before he acts.
Pushing the laptop away, he slides off of the seat and shuffles around in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. Junhui follows his movements with raised brows, puzzlement evident. Wonwoo hides a small, endeared smile at the sight of parted pink lips and sparkling eyes rounded out by confusion. The phone lays forgotten, slipping out of a lax grasp the moment Junhui sees Wonwoo sit back on a leg, one knee propped up.
“W-Wonwoo?” he calls out hesitantly.
Calmly, Wonwoo reaches for his left hand and squeezes the fingers. Junhui returns the pressure instinctively, but the small pinch between his brows persists. “You know I’m not impulsive,” Wonwoo starts.
Junhui nods slowly.
“And I know you can be oblivious at times.”
Upon the remark, a pout appears on the heart-shaped lips Wonwoo adores kissing so much. Junhui whines, petulant, prompting the rapper to chuckle fondly even as Junhui swats at him halfheartedly with his free hand.
“As such,” Wonwoo continues with a small smile, “This seems like a good opportunity as any to tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Junhui tilts his head to the side, blinking innocently. So cute.
Blood rushes past Wonwoo’s ears, heart pumping, adrenaline racing through his vessels. “We may have gotten married to eleven other boys,” he says with a wry grin, gesturing toward their group rings. “But I hope you’re aware that one day, another ring will rest right here, binding us together. Just the two of us.” As he speaks, he gently strokes around the dancer’s left fourth finger, gaze steady on his.
Junhui’s breath catches, pink staining his cheeks. His eyes glisten as the unspoken words seep into his consciousness. His hand shakes.
Faster than Wonwoo can blink, Junhui sits up and tumbles into him. They nearly crash against the coffee table, but Wonwoo can hardly bother to care. Arms wrap around his neck, thighs encircle his hips, a familiar weight settles on his lap. Lavender and sunshine fills his lungs as he hugs Junhui more tightly to him, hitching him up by the thighs to accommodate the position. The boy burrows into the crook of his shoulder.
“You’re so unfair,” he complains—whines, really. “Suddenly saying—That’s a sneak attack!”
Wonwoo laughs, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s not. Surely, you must have seen it coming. Maybe not today, but regardless. It’s not that unexpected.” Stroking over the warm cheek with the back of his fingers, he asks, “Have you really not considered it at all?”
At the slight nervous tone, Junhui peeks up at him. His head still rests on Wonwoo’s shoulder, but their eyes meet and Junhui smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t… not think about it,” he admits, tugging on the collar of Wonwoo’s old shirt. “But I also didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
Relief rushes out of his lungs, but he hides it well with an arched brow. “Really? Spending nearly a decade together is considered presumptuous in your book?”
Giggles fill the sunlit room as Junhui sits up and presses a quick kiss to his mouth. Before he can pull back, Wonwoo cards his fingers through the brown locks at his nape and keeps him in place, deepening the kiss. Junhui lets out a startled squeak, but quickly falls into the rhythm, pliant and sweet in Wonwoo’s arms.
Drawing back to let Junhui catch his breath, he pecks the two moles on his upper lip and watches with fondness as his boyfriend smiles at him, cheeks flushed, lips red, eyes bright but dazed.
Giddy, Junhui tucks his face into the side of Wonwoo’s neck again. Warm breath fans across the feverish skin when he laughs quietly. Wonwoo slides his hand under the hem of the t-shirt and roams over the smooth golden skin. He sucks a small mark under the collar of the shirt.
“What’s so funny?” he asks absentmindedly, soothing the sting of the bite with his tongue.
A soft moan escapes red-bitten lips, and he smirks smugly.
“Mean,” Junhui mumbles, punctuating the accusation with a glare. But it’s quickly overtaken by his grin, the giddiness making it impossible for him to keep up the feigned anger. He snuggles closer. Mischief is written all over his adorable face. “So does this mean I have to return Hoshi’s engagement ring?”
Wonwoo’s expression falls flat. He stares at his boyfriend in stupefaction for a full second, before indignation and irritation surface. “He… Soonyoung proposed to you?” The question is absurd. He knows, logically, it has to be some kind of prank. And yet, he can’t help seeing flashes of him dragging his best friend out of his room and choking the living daylights out of him.
Junhui’s giggles break into his morbid imagination. He looks back to see the dancer fighting yet another fit of laughter.
“Hoshi gave me a ring pop this morning,” he explains, booping his nose.
“On one knee,” Wonwoo guesses dryly.
Junhui confirms, “On one knee.”
Wonwoo rolls his eyes. The irritation leaks out of him. Well, almost all of it. The traces remain and turn into tepid annoyance. The possessive streak when it comes to Junhui decidedly not backing down. Scowling, he laces his fingers behind Junhui’s back and says, “Keep the candy. Unlike his, my ring will be permanent.”
“Aww, Wonwon~” Junhui teases. Keeping his arms around Wonwoo’s shoulders, he leans in until their foreheads are only separated by a minute distance.
Another breeze blows through the window, a bit stronger this time, rattling the blinds. Sunlight follows, golden rays caressing Junhui’s hair, illuminating his face, showing off the constellation of moles sprinkled over glowing skin. The warm brown eyes hold so much affection for him, Wonwoo’s heart clenches. Rosy lips bloom into a tender smile.
Junhui is beautiful.
A well-known fact, but it never ceases to amaze him.
Wonwoo could gaze at him forever and never grow bored.
So momentarily stunned by the vision before him, he hardly notices Junhui leaning in closer. He doesn’t blink out of the stupor until their foreheads are pressed together. Following the gentle touch is Junhui’s melodious and sweet voice.
“Darling, with me under the sun, I know that you’re my one.”
A bright smile breaks across Wonwoo’s face as he cups Junhui’s cheek in his palm and brings them even closer together. At a breath’s away, he whispers against his lips, “Kiss me, baby.”
An hour—or several—could have passed. Wonwoo honestly wouldn’t be able to tell. Not when he’s so drunk off of the taste of Junhui’s in his mouth, the touch of hot skin under his own palms, firm thighs bracketing his hips, sweet moans filling his ears.
It would have been a perfect afternoon, if not for the pests they both love and adore so much interrupting.
Distinctly, past the addictive soft gasps of Junhui whimpering his name, Wonwoo hears slippered footsteps approaching from the hallway. They stop abruptly, then quickly retreat. Not even a second later, they hear Seungkwan’s voice.
“No one enters the living room right now! Wonwoo and Moon Jun are making out on the couch again!”
“Oh, my god!” Junhui squeaks, face flushing even more red as he hides against Wonwoo’s chest.
The latter rolls his eyes and groans.
As if the “warning” wasn’t enough of a mood killer, their phones simultaneously go off with notifications. Clearly, Seungkwan thought it necessary to announce it to the rest of the members currently on the other two floors.
“Children!” Jeonghan’s voice rings out from somewhere down the hall. “Let me remind you that that is a communal couch. I better not find any suspicious stains there later!”
Seungcheol adds in, “We hold family game nights in that living room! It’s sacred! Do not desecrate it!”
Junhui whines and tucks himself even more tightly against Wonwoo’s embrace. Only the tips of his ears are visible, and they’re as red as a cherry.
Wonwoo barely has time to roll his eyes at the obvious remark meant to tease Junhui, that another voice echos through the apartment.
“Hey, Jeon Wonwoo! Paws off my fiancé!” On the heel of the statement are loud and obnoxious cackles.
Wonwoo grits his teeth, throwing a glare toward the empty doorway. Turning back to the couch, he strokes over Junhui’s thigh, urging him out of the cushions.
“Come on, kitten. Let’s go.”
Confused, Junhui sits up, chest still heaving. He blinks rapidly. “G-go where?”
Wonwoo runs his fingers through the disheveled strands, attempting to tame the wild state of the boy’s hair as best as he can. “The store,” he declares. “I’m buying you an extra-large bag of ring pops.”