Work Text:
October 20th, 6:45 AM
The first few rays of sunlight filter in through the gaps in the curtain, offering a small bit of warmth that dulls the bite of the cold autumn morning air. On the bed, two bodies are wrapped in an embrace, limbs coiled together like tendrils twined around trellises. One stirs awake in time with the sunrise.
“Wonwoo, wake up, it’s morning.”
Junhui has always been an early riser, and normally Wonwoo would be thankful for that, but today is different.
“Hmm… I know,” Wonwoo succinctly supplies.
Junhui untangles his arms from around Wonwoo’s frame before saying, “Then get up. You don’t want to be late, do you?”
Wonwoo tightens his hold on Junhui instead. “Give me ten more minutes,” he bargains, lethargy coloring his voice.
Junhui agrees and lets the ten minutes pass, counting down the time by playing a match-three game on his phone. Once the countdown is over, he tries again. “Okay, dear, that’s ten minutes. Up up, come on.”
“Hmm, yeah, five minutes,” Wonwoo attempts once more.
He doesn’t get the minutes as easily as the first time, however. “That’s five minutes too late for you to be getting up. Come on, open your eyes and wash up. I’ll make breakfast.”
Wonwoo, not one to give up easily, does what he knows works best on Junhui. He does open his eyes, and with them gives the other man a look that is not far from begging. To maximize the effect, he juts his lips out in a little pout, certain of the sway this face has over Junhui.
It produces the outcome he was hoping for. Junhui indulges him, says “Okay, but those five minutes are gonna be the last.”
So Wonwoo clings tighter to him, nestles his head at his neck, and stretches his left leg over both of Junhui’s. He gets gentle strokes along the length of his spine in return, a loving gesture he sears like a brand into memory.
The five minutes pass like this, quiet and loaded just the same. Once Junhui deems it over, he endeavors to get Wonwoo out of bed once more. “Five minutes all consumed. Get up now. For real.”
“Don’t you want another two minutes in bed with me?”
“Whether I want that or not is inconsequential to the matter at hand right now. Up with you.”
“Two minutes. And I absolutely promise that it’s gonna be the last,” Wonwoo tries to convince Junhui.
Knowing how stubborn he could be, Junhui acquiesces. “Fine, but I’m dragging you out of bed if you don’t get up after.”
“You won’t need to. I’ll be a good boy, I swear.”
Two minutes elapse with nothing but the sound of their breathing, synchronized as if they were one. Like a carefully folded piece of clothing, Wonwoo stores this moment in one of the many drawers of his mind labeled Junhui.
True to his word, he gets up without prompting when the two minutes are over. “Okay, Junnie, I’m up. Time for that breakfast you promised me.”
They saunter out of bed together, ready to finally start their day. In the bathroom, they wash their faces and brush their teeth side by side like they have always done. The task, being one of habit, is not complete without Wonwoo staring at Junhui intently through the mirror. It makes Junhui blush every time, and like all the other instances before this, he pokes Wonwoo at the flank as a response. Wonwoo makes a show of getting hurt, and even though Junhui knows by now to not take it seriously, he looks over at Wonwoo just in case.
Once done, they each attend to their respective task. Junhui prepares a hearty meal in the kitchen to share with Wonwoo—scrambled eggs with tomato, scallion pancakes, and his homemade soy milk—while Wonwoo goes through Junhui’s closet to pick out some clothes to wear in the coming days. Over breakfast, they exchange stories from their separate schedules, laughing at co-stars’ filming rituals or something Soonyoung said.
The affair after eating is just as comfortable. Wonwoo volunteers to wash the dishes, reasoning with Junhui that he has time. Junhui obliges, but not without staying by Wonwoo’s side while he completes his chore, regaling him with more firsthand accounts from the movie set. Like this, they spend a few minutes as if insulated in a bubble.
It’s easy, what they have. Junhui and Wonwoo, they’re as sure as the next beat of a steady rhythm playing on the drum. They stride to a cadence that is familiar, that is uniquely theirs. It’s very easy, which is also why it is difficult.
At the front door of Junhui’s apartment, the standstill breaks.
“Well, off you go then,” Junhui says, although he still has Wonwoo’s wool coat in his clutch.
A fond smile paints itself onto Wonwoo’s face. “I’m gonna need my coat for that, you know,” he returns.
Junhui, with a small smile of his own, supplies, “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”
“I do.”
So Junhui helps him put it on, slotting Wonwoo’s arms into the armholes and smoothing out any creases on the sleeves and the shoulders. Once that’s done, with eyes downcast and hands finally unoccupied, Junhui clings onto the lapels of Wonwoo’s coat. “There you go. All set,” he says.
What Wonwoo gives instead is not a reply but a gesture. He tips Junhui’s chin upwards, making sure the other has his eyes on him. And then, softly, like feathers, he encircles Junhui’s wrists with his fingers, the pulse points under them beating in staccato. There, in Wonwoo’s eyes, is the unspoken message. It’s a wish, a plea too precious to set free in words that disappear into air once uttered.
“Wonwoo, you have to go,” Junhui starts after some time passes. “The manager, you don’t want to-”
Wonwoo grips his wrists tighter, effectively halting any protest from Junhui. With eyes still set on him, Wonwoo maneuvers their hands to touch palm to palm, lacing their fingers together as if in prayer. “Junnie,” he breathes out, gentle and imploring.
“Yes?”
“Wait for me?”
A tender smile blooms on Junhui’s face, melancholy seeping out of his features. And, like a well-guarded, whispered secret, Wonwoo keeps this image in a compartment of his heart.
When Junhui replies, it is with all the conviction he can manage, a single word he trusts Wonwoo to carry the weight of. “Always.”
Wonwoo unclasps his right hand from Junhui at that and, with sure movements, places it at the nape of Junhui’s neck to bring him in for a kiss. There is no urgency, only the certainty of the next beat of the drum.
When they separate, Wonwoo gathers his bag and puts on his shoes. He pauses at the open door to look back at Junhui once more, a lightness that is palpable showing in the scrunch of his nose as he gives Junhui a big smile. Hoisting his things a little more securely on his shoulder, he faces forward, ready to go.
And then, with a promise, the door closes.