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apricity:
the warmth of the sun in winter.
Heart is soft.
Liming has never had anything soft in his life before him — has never known being treated softly.
His mother wasn’t exactly bad. His relationship with her was rocky at the start — much better now than it was before — and at least now she tried. But she wasn’t soft, had never been soft.
His uncle could be a lot of things, and Liming loved him, he really did — but he was certainly not soft. He was hardworking and stubborn as hell and very grumpy and a pain in the ass most of the time, but Liming loved him. He wasn’t perfect — not in the slightest — but he did his best; even more now. But, yup. Certainly not soft.
P’Leng was teasing and fun and a source of comfort, but Liming wouldn’t describe him as soft either. P’Wen was a good listener, understanding and very kind; Liming had found in him an adult that treated him like his opinions mattered, and for that he’d always be grateful to him— still, though, P’Wen was really nice, but not soft.
Heart, though— God. Heart was soft; is soft.
He’s playful, sneaky and teasing. Cheeky when he wants to be. Adorable like no other. A ball of mirthful joy. Sunshine on dark and cold days. He’s all smiley; gets all pouty sometimes. He’s a lot of things. Likes to tease Liming with countless affectionate attacks, tickling him, tackling him into hugs, peppering Liming’s face with kisses. Likes to put his hand under Liming’s shirt and press on that sensitive spot on the small of his back— gets the biggest smirk on his face when Liming gets all stupidly flustered after. Likes to play footsie under the table when they’re having dinner on their small — very small, but cozy nonetheless — apartment; widest grin on his face, brightest eyes as he does. He sulks when Liming teases him back at times, or when he’s playfully making fun of him; all pouty and cute until Liming is grinning at him and kissing him on the cheeks and pecking his lips again and again until he giggles.
He's cute. Has such a sweet voice, calling Liming’s name when Liming asks him to, saying good night before falling asleep cuddling in Liming’s chest, calling Liming all the sappiest nicknames just because he felt like it.
He had a whole list, with the corniest, cheesiest pet names. Pumpkin. Shortcake. Darling. Cupcake. Cutie. Baby. Sweetheart. My love.
He particularly enjoyed Liming’s reactions when he said it, carefully observing Liming’s blushing face and wobbly lips stuttering incoherent things, as well as the many ways he tried to hide away from Heart’s mischievously gleeful eyes. His reactions were increasingly more flustered with every nickname said — he almost choked on his coffee when Heart called him cupcake, nearly burned their kitchen when he was cooking their breakfast and Heart back-hugged him (all sleepy and yawning and irrevocably soft), kissed his neck and called him baby right on his ear. He stamped himself on a door and proceeded to blush for an entire fifteen minutes at the sound of sweetheart in Heart’s voice, and he was pretty sure he combusted on the spot as soon as Heart called him my love.
Yeah. All of that for his bad boy reputation back in high school.
But he guessed Heart had that effect on him — had always had that effect on him, back since they met. He carded a place inside Liming’s very heart and made him soft, like the softness seeping on Heart’s self spread all over Liming himself.
Liming liked to tease him back too, and Heart was no better than him.
(Well. Not so true. He was a lot better than him.
Both in flirting and being flirted at, most of the time just grinning or giggling or getting starry-eyed at Liming’s poor attempts of wooing him.
Certainly, he got a lot less flustered than Liming, who blushed at the minimal flirting interaction. But in his defense, Heart was pretty flirty.)
One thing that always got to Heart was when Liming called him cute nicknames in sign language. He got as flustered as Liming did when Heart used his voice.
He guessed it was because Heart found Liming endearing and cute when he signed— he told him as much one day.
And Liming had something with Heart’s voice. Heart had a really nice voice. He liked hearing it— judging by Heart’s reactions, he found both adorable and amusing the effect his voice had on Liming, and started talking a lot more around Liming. Not too many sentences, but a lot of random words at random times.
His voice is soft. Like everything about him, his voice is no different.
Heart is soft. He treats Liming kindly — warm and tender. Touches Liming like he’s delicate and worth treasuring, fingertips tracing the column of his neck, his fluttering eyelashes — featherlight over his cheeks and jaw and shoulders, drawing the outline of his face with reverence, stroking the warm skin of his collarbones, teasing the hem of his shirts— all while looking at his fingers and Liming with the most caring, soft eyes he's ever had, full of affection and unapologetic fondness.
He leaves cute notes on Liming’s desk (have a good day! :), you’re working really hard <3, you’re doing great!!!! you’re awesome *u*!, take care of yourself <33, today is going to be good!!! c:, i’m so proud of you <3 ^^!, thank u for the breakfast babyboy <3, love u lots xoxo!!), puts doodles on their small fridge, cuddles with Liming when they watch movies together, observes him attentively as Liming signs jerkily at him and rambles when he has bad days, always has hugs and advices back.
He's soft.
Liming is so, so grateful to have him.
He’s so soft. He does tell Heart as much. Signs it to him one day, keeps doing it every time he feels like it, hands moving with emphasis, slow and earnest. Genuine. Because he’s never known anything like he knows this.
You. Liming points at Heart, eyes raw, blood pulsing under his skin. Are. Soft.
Heart’s reaction is always the same, no matter how many times Liming signs it: he smiles, gentle and sweet, joy reaching his eyes and crinkling at the corners, happy as he signs back at Liming — steady and loving; like he’s never known anything like this.
You are too.
Now, he’s stepping inside their kitchen in all his morning glory — wearing one of Liming’s oversized tees (hanging low and hugging Heart’s hips) and a pair of boxers, messy bedhead, rubbing his sleepy eyes, sloppy as he sits on one of the stools of the counter, blinking at Liming cutely.
He perks up like a puppy when Liming serves him a plate of food; smile instantly curling his lips up as he looks at Liming starry-eyed.
He’s so soft. Gentle like spring rain, warm like the specks of sunlight making his hair coppery and hazelnut hues.
Liming reaches to ruffle his hair, watches Heart lean into the touch with the sweetest eyes and a saccharine smile. He tilts his head in that adorable way of his— like a confused kitten, all curious and interested and tiny; it reminds Liming of baby Jumbo.
Liming signs at him. Over and over again.
You are soft. Because Heart is. Liming has never known anything like this.
Heart answers right back, warm and sincere and soft — even with the sleepiness tinting the lazy and unhurried movements of his hands, the sparkle on his eyes is as all the same. Just for Liming. Always for Liming. His smile is lovely. You are too.