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The couch is a rather comfortable middle ground between standing on one’s feet and laying down on the floor completely, but it can just as quickly become a trap as it can serve as a refuge. In fact, the living room couch is precisely where Hwanwoong finds himself one evening, having settled down to rest from an exhausting workday - sinking into the cushions brings a blissful relief to his aching body. The small, worn-out pillow that has resided on the couch longer than anyone can remember is stuffed under his neck, alleviating the discomfort of the awkward angle between his head and the armrest.
How long he has spent on the couch he doesn’t quite know, but what Hwanwoong does know is that it’s already late enough to warrant going to bed. He’s tired enough, he could fall asleep easily except-
Except he’s too tired, and the mere idea of trying to get up feels insurmountable. He lets out a tired exhale, once again realizing he has boxed himself into the ridiculous impasse of needing to sleep but feeling too exhausted to get up and go through the required motions to end up soundly in bed. His arms and legs feel like blocks of lead, the only muscles he remains capable of moving are his fingers and eyelids, the latter of which are threatening to close for a little too long to be written off as blinking.
Hwanwoong pries his eyes open, annoyed with how easy and inviting it is to just shut them and drift off right there. He blinks again, vision feeling fuzzy with the midnight haze of exhaustion. He tells himself he must not let himself fall asleep on the couch; he’s woken up from crappy sleep with a sore back one too many times to make the same mistake again. And yet, his body absolutely refuses to stop feeling like a slab of concrete duct taped to the couch. His eyes sting from the light that is still on overhead, the pangs threatening to collaborate into a full headache. Another loud exhale escapes him. He can’t let himself sleep, he can’t get himself to bed.
This is fine.
(It is not).
The creak of a door and a cadence of footsteps - immediately recognizable as Dongju’s - approaches at a moderate pace and stops behind the couch just as the silhouette casts a shadow over Hwanwoong’s face.
“Are you coming to bed?” Dongju leans over the back of the couch, resting his chin on his folded hands as he looks down.
“Eventually,” Hwanwoong mutters, a response that convinces neither of them.
“Please?”
Dongju lets one arm sink down, his hand seeking Hwanwoong’s. He finds enough energy to move one of his hands closer for Dongju to pick up, lacing their fingers together.
“Can’t,” Hwanwoong responds honestly, fighting to keep his eyes open long enough to convince Dongju he’s fine.
He hears a sigh as Dongju’s hand lets go, Hwanwoong’s arm falling back down to his chest with a rather lonely thump. Part of him wants to call Dongju back, but the sounds of the squeaky kitchen cabinets and running water would drown his tired voice out if he tried. He rubs his eyes again, envying Dongju’s ability to pour a glass of water and return promptly to the bedroom. In the times when even one small step like sitting upright feels downright impossible, the whole series of tasks required to get himself to bed - get up, walk to kitchen, select a glass, fill water, carry to bedroom, set on nightstand, open closet, find pyjamas, change, throw used clothes in the laundry - makes him want to give up and never move again. It’s fine, he can continue to exist on this couch in a half-awake state as the time slowly ticks towards the next morning, it’s fine.
It’s fine.
“Woongie,” Dongju’s voice reemerges in his vicinity, this time walking around to the front of the couch. He perks up with attention at his name being called - or rather, just opens his eyes to see the other crouching down beside him with a pitying look. “Come on baby, let’s get you to bed,” Dongju asks him in an earnest tone, shaking his shoulder.
Before he can protest the request, before he can quell the little flutter in his heart, Dongju lets go of his shoulder and slides his arms between Hwanwoong and the cushions. Hooking one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back, Dongju rises with a huff and lifts Hwanwoong off the couch with unexpected speed. Hwanwoong lets out a small noise of surprise, quickly looping his arms around Dongju’s shoulders and pulling himself closer.
“Just this one time,” Dongju emphasizes, struggling to right himself before finally finding his balance. “Don’t expect to be carried like this every night,” he finishes off pointedly, but his tone fails to carry any element of scolding the words would otherwise suggest.
Hwanwoong hums in response and drops his head against Dongju’s chest, burying his face in the t-shirt; content with the familiar, soothing warmth, and pleasantly surprised with such a convenient ticket to a good night’s sleep. For the first time that night he feels light, he feels at ease, gratitude sprouting and filling up his heart. He can’t quite find the words to express how much the gesture means to him, so he nuzzles into Dongju’s collarbone and hopes the message is received. Dongju kisses the top of his head.
For the rest of the swift route to the bedroom he remains still and quiet, sparing the time Dongju just narrowly avoids bumping him against the doorframe. During the short time Dongju carries him, the rest of the world melts away; the only remaining sensation is the secure hold of Dongju’s arms - the pair of arms he considers home.
Only when Dongju lowers him onto the bed does Hwanwoong notice the glass of water from earlier - atop the nightstand on Hwanwoong’s side of the bed. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, growing bigger when he realizes that the pile beside his pillow is a neatly-folded set of clean pyjamas. He turns to Dongju, whose eyes meet his own for a brief moment before ducking away. Hwanwoong watches, amused, as Dongju pretends to busy himself with rearranging the photo frames on top of their dresser.
What a dork, Hwanwoong thinks, then promptly shares the thought out loud. He wheezes lightly when Dongju quirks an eyebrow in offense, grins wider as Dongju stalks back towards the bed, dissolving into soft laughter at Dongju’s attempt to roll him up into a blanket.
“I thought you were supposed to be tired,” Dongju whines as he climbs onto the bed, trapping Hwanwoong beneath him.
As if on cue, a huge yawn overtakes Hwanwoong, reminding him he can't quite fight away sleep by messing with Dongju.
“I am,” he wiggles his arms free of the blanket, only to use them to lazily pull at Dongju until they're face to face - a self-indulgent little action to admire Dongju up close. Close to his pretty eyes, the lovely dimples from his sleepy smile, the perfectly kissable tip of his nose. “I just really like the way you care for me.” Plain and simple, but suddenly a feeling so sincere grips him that he can't quite verbalize what it means. “You make me happy to be here.”
“Oh-” Dongju’s face softens, caught off guard - Hwanwoong can't resist pulling him into a kiss, cupping his jaw and running a hand through his hair.
Hwanwoong melts from the way Dongju's lips move slowly and sweetly against his, the way Dongju’s hands sneak under the blanket to slide down his sides, unhurried, loving.
“You’re my precious little peanut,” Dongju pauses to press a few kisses onto Hwanwoong’s face, one over each of his moles. “But if you don’t let us get changed and sleep, I’m throwing you back onto the couch again,” his tone turns playful, and pokes Hwanwoong’s sides with both hands at once.
“Hey,” Hwanwoong yelps, pouting as Dongju uses the moment of distraction to slide off the bed and head towards the closet.
Hwanwoong has to give credit where it’s due; the act of changing into his pyjamas in a sleep-deprived state is magnitudes easier when they’re already waiting for him by the pillow, and the laundry isn’t a challenge so long as he doesn’t hit Dongju with a stray sock attempting to toss it into the hamper.
Once the lights are off, Hwanwoong can only see the vague shape of Dongju approaching the bed and climbing under the covers. The mattress dips as he settles down with a content sigh, sticking one arm under the pillow and facing Hwanwoong.
“You know,” Dongju quietly speaks up after a minute or two of silence, “I do like taking care of you,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.
Hwanwoong keeps still, waiting for Dongju to continue. Of course, it has been obvious to him from the start, but Dongju rarely admits it out loud - a rather adorable tendency, actually, of Dongju pretending that the pyjamas magically spawned beside Hwanwoong’s pillow. Or the soup miraculously cooked itself, the time Hwanwoong was down with a cold. Or his favourite tiger-shaped mug reappeared brand-new on the counter on its own accord, the week after it broke into tiny pieces.
Hwanwoong’s eyes adjust to the darkness, allowing him to see Dongju’s other hand lying in the space on the bed between them, tracing circles with his index finger.
“I like to, because I know you’ve always been there for me,” Dongju continues in a whisper directed across the pillow for Hwanwoong, only for Hwanwoong to hear. “And I owe you so much for helping to make my life better, so if I can return even a fraction of the love you’ve given me-”
This time, Hwanwoong interrupts, picking up Dongju’s hand in his own.
“Angel, everything that you do is enough, more than enough for me,” he insists, softly but firmly.
He can’t quite see the reaction in Dongju’s eyes, so he brings the hand up to his face, lips just barely ghosting over the knuckles. Amid the sleepy haze in his brain, one thing in Hwanwoong’s heart aligns to become crystal clear.
(Perhaps it has always been).
“I hope I get to love you every day, for the rest of my life.”
Dongju’s breath hitches as Hwanwoong tenderly kisses the back of his hand, to keep himself grounded, to keep Dongju grounded, to seal his words with action before the weight of them and the realization sinks in fully.
“I hope you do,” Dongju finally utters in a small voice, “so then I can spend every day loving you back.”
The rush and relief hits Hwanwoong at once. He lets go of Dongju’s hand to fully throw his arms around the other, pulling his love closer and closer, until they’re tangled under the blanket and Hwanwoong kisses him breathless.
Despite the final burst of energy, the moment is eventually broken by a yawn - from Dongju, this time - but Hwanwoong has no worries returning to the topic another day. He got his answer, he has the time to work out the finer details later.
He’s got the rest of his life with Dongju for that, actually.