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He looks over his phone as he wiggles his feet, his legs looking for a comfortable way to keep warm. His socks are fresh from the laundry, miraculously the exact same pair (probably). The video reel on his phone continues to play but he doesn't bother to swipe.
Because Jihoon is here, looking at his own phone, scrolling his own feed. He bops his head though the volume of their phones are so low, it's practically on mute. But he listens to it as if it's THX surround sound quality. And Soonyoung smiles as he finds the most comfortable position: his one foot tucked under the pillow on Jihoon's lap, the other under Jihoon's warm thigh, and his head propped up by the throw pillow on the arm rest.
His phone pings and vibrates and he sees the message a second before it disappears: woozi_universefactory has sent you a reel.
And it's so amazing how easy this is. How comfortable they get, how relaxing this is, and how in fucking love he is.
He feels it at the tip of his fingers and at the corners of his eyes. His heart beats fast then slow then fast once more. He feels his cheeks pinken and the realization that he's here, with Jihoon. With Jihoon. WithJihoon.
Jihoon, who will take it in stride but lean his head on a shoulder. Who will push him away in embarrassment but will reach out a finger to hold. Who will roll his eyes at any form of skinship and affection but will send song demos that are heart wrenchingly beautiful.
Who will ignore you but send you reels and let you shuffle around to be comfortable.
God, he loves this man.
He's feeling playful and cute, but he's not going to push it. They're both comfortable and peaceful. Something they rarely get. It's even raining lightly outside. Not enough to disturb anyone's daily lives. It's cozy. It's enough.
His phone pings again and because he's watching Jihoon chuckle, he knows it's another reel from him.
He makes the mistake of wiggling his toes. Jihoon shifts too and for a moment, he's scared he burst their peaceful bubble. But he pauses, he waits. Jihoon merely fixes their positions, making sure to tuck the right feet under the same places.
And he doesn't want to move anymore. He's starting to feel too hot under Jihoon's thigh and pillow. His neck is stiffening and his back is screaming at him to fix his posture except-- no.
Now his hands are itching. His fingers twitch and his palms are sweating lightly. There's a stray hair on Jihoon's forehead. It's by his line of sight and he wants to so much tuck it behind Jihoon's ear. Yet he keeps still.
His phone is now in between the cushions and it's going to behell searching for it, but he doesn't care. Not right now.
The indoor lights are bright and white. Neither of them are wearing makeup and their hair is unkempt. He bothered with a beanie but Jihoon left his hair loose and down. His long hair has been there for a while.
Jihoon's face is illuminated by his phone's screen. His cheeks are pink from laughing, and his fingers are busy typing and scrolling on the screen. He's still bopping his head as if he's listening to music because it's a habit of his. His legs sway though it hits the couch. Sometimes, his right hand conducts in the air and he doesn't think Jihoon notices this. Another habit of his.
"Stop staring," Jihoon says, and he admits defeat. Their bubble has burst, but he doesn't have it in him to complain. "Kwon Soonyoung."
Soonyoung adjusts in his side of the couch, mourning the loss of Jihoon's warmth. He smiles and turns, scooting next to Jihoon to cuddle instead, one arm across the stomach. He waits. Patient. Quiet. Jihoon rolls his shoulders but one hand tucks his head into his neck before laying on top of Soonyoung's arm.
Soonyoung smiles wider and takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes and listens to the beat of Jihoon's heart and his feed. They say nothing. They don't admit anything. Not yet.
"Crazy old man," Jihoon teases, but leaves it at that.
In the small, peaceful bubble of just the two of them. With nothing else.