Work Text:
The way Sieun feels for Suho is unlike anything he’s ever felt for anyone else, ever. Suho is the brightest light in Sieun’s sky, brighter and more necessary than the Sun. When Suho isn’t there, Sieun feels cold, like an ice age hit suddenly.
Suho, his everything: voice, smile, laugh, warmth, touch… his presence is overwhelming and all encompassing over Sieun. Like a security blanket he holds onto like a small child. He hasn’t felt this sort of attachment ever in his life, his parents never gave him the chance to.
When Sieun feels faint, which isn’t often anymore, Suho takes care of him in a special way. A way without complaints, or words that make Sieun feel like a burden for being so fragile. His parents didn’t give him that, either. He was a nuisance to them, defective. Suho doesn’t think he’s defective.
He makes soup and porridge and feeds it to Sieun, even when he himself isn’t feeling well. When his head hurts a little more than usual, or his hands tremble, he still prioritizes Sieun. And he’s so, so tender. His soft touches to Sieun’s face, hands, hair, waist, everywhere. It’s all so soft.
“I’m not made of glass, you don’t have to treat me so carefully,” Sieun had whispered once.
“But I want to, I want to make you feel loved,” was Suho’s response. Sieun didn’t argue.
Suho had managed to crawl into Sieun’s ear and eat his way into his brain, living there rent-free. Like a song you can’t forget about, that gets stuck and doesn’t leave. The only difference between Suho and an earworm is that Sieun could never get annoyed by Suho’s persistent presence in his life.
And anyway, it’s not like Sieun’s any better. He had ripped open a fissure in Suho’s chest, in his heart, and made himself at home there. Within the pulsing walls of his strongest muscle. As much as Suho could punch and fight, his heart is still the strongest part of him. And his heart belongs to Sieun, all of it.
“Why do you like to lay on my chest like this?” Suho pouts, ruffling Sieun’s hair, “I can’t give you kisses like this…”
Sieun hums sleepily, “I like hearing your heartbeat. You’re so… alive.”
Suho chuckles, his chest rising and falling under the weight of Sieun’s head.
“Ah, Yeon Sieun, you’re still so warm-hearted.”
Sieun will never understand why Suho says that, when clearly he has the warmest heart out of the two of them. Sieun can feel it, as he presses his face closer into Suho’s chest. So warm . He doesn’t get to think much more, before Suho pulls him up and showers him in kisses and hugs.
Yet another thing Sieun’s parents didn’t do. Sometimes, Sieun wonders where Suho learned to love like this. How he made Sieun feel like the only person in the world, how he made Sieun feel so loved. It was a great mystery, the eighth wonder of the world.
When Sieun passes out doing homework at his desk when he shouldn’t be, he always wakes up in bed, a warmth all around him. Suho. Sieun would not, and probably could not have it any other way. He spends less and less time in his own home than at Suho’s.
But wherever Suho is, that’s where Sieun’s true home is. That’s where he belongs, in Suho’s arms.
When the both of them were unwell, they’d tangle up in each other's arms in Suho’s bed, while Suho’s grandma doted on the both of them.
“You two… both pushing yourselves when you shouldn’t be, I guess you two really are a match made in heaven, hm?” she says, patting their heads softly. Suho’s touch mirrors hers, Sieun notices. And the mystery is suddenly solved. The person who taught Suho how to love is right there, loving them both.
Sieun needs to thank her sincerely soon, for gifting Suho to him. Perhaps he’d prepare a basket of fruits for her. He wasn’t good at gift giving, but he could always learn.
When the two boys are well, they go out everywhere together. Sieun always complains that he has work to do, but one look at Suho’s excited face, his sparkling eyes, and Sieun folds like a lawn chair.
One night, Suho drives Sieun far away from the city lights, into a field. When Sieun blinks up, he sees an ocean of stars laid out above them. Then, Suho’s hand finds his, just as streaks of light start flying through the sky.
Meteor shower…
“Sieunnie,” Suho says softly, staring at Sieun, who’s staring at the sky, wide eyed, “Make a wish.”
I wish for us to keep loving each other like this. Forever and ever.
That’s Sieun’s wish. He closes his eyes and hopes with all his heart that it comes true. He doesn’t even bother telling Suho that wishing on shooting stars didn’t do anything.
When he opens his eyes again, Suho turns him around and looks at him, like he’s the most important thing in the world. Sieun feels warm from head to toe. There’s a beautiful event taking place in the sky right above them, clear to see, yet Suho still chooses to look at Sieun.
Slowly, wordlessly, he leans in. And Sieun closes his eyes, expecting what’s to come with a wild heart. When their mouths touch, it’s sweet, electric, and Sieun feels like he’s soaring with the meteors overhead.
Suho, like his heart, is so warm, so soft, so gentle with Sieun. Sieun who pushes himself too hard, Sieun who has no purpose but to love Suho. Sieun whose health is weak, but will is strong. Sieun who loves Suho. And who Suho loves back just as much, if not tenfold.
Sieun doesn’t know where he starts and Suho begins. Because here, in this very moment, with his eyes closed and the soft summer night breeze blowing through his hair, they are truly one. Here, there are no bullies, no one to bother them, no one to take the other away. Sieun clings to Suho, like a lifeline.
When Suho pulls away and presses their foreheads together, whispering an “I love you,” Sieun shuts his eyes and lets his stuttering heart speak for him.
I love you, too. More than I’ve ever loved anything. More than I ever will.
He doesn’t realize it, but he’s grinning ear to ear.