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Han Yoojin’s half-hearted complaints about being carried off to bed froze silent when Sung Hyunjae nudged the bedroom door open with one shoulder. The lights came on automatically, but he’d be able to guess what was going on from the fresh-blooming scent of sweet-spiciness in the air.
“What did you do,” he said flatly, though it was a struggle. His voice wanted to lean into something more like disbelief. Incredulity, perhaps. “Buy an entire flower shop?”
It was the only explanation. Sung Hyunjae’s bed was scattered copiously with rose petals, which wouldn’t be that big of a deal if it wasn’t a very, very big bed. (Han Yoojin had become very well-acquainted with that bed. He knew just how easy it was to get lost in it.)
Sung Hyunjae laughed, the sound delighted and charmed. He seemed pleased both by Yoojin’s reaction and able to see through it all at the same time. “Should I be offended that you think I’d only buy one flower shop for you, Yoojin-gun?” he teased.
Making his way over to the bed, Sung Hyunjae set him down with an elegant grace that made Han Yoojin roll his eyes at how naturally he seemed to pull it off. It was only then that he noticed the rest of the room. Forget the bed; there were rose petals arranged artfully on the floor, as well, and on every bit of furniture, and were those—somehow, as if by magic—rose petals floating in the air as well? How the fuck did he pull that off? There were so many of them in the room that Han Yoojin couldn’t figure out how it didn’t look gaudy or overdone.
Trust Sung Hyunjae to somehow manage to make it look perfect. Understated, even. Like a work of art.
Lifting one of the petals to his nose to inhale the scent, as if it wasn’t everywhere around him, Han Yoojin narrowed his eyes. “What’s the occasion?” he asked suspiciously.
Sung Hyunjae raised one immaculate eyebrow. “Occasion? Isn’t every day with you an occasion, Yoojuin-gun?” he asked lightly.
Letting the petal drift from his hand back to the bed, Han Yoojin surveyed the S-Class standing innocently before him. If there was one thing he’d learned about Sung Hyunjae in the months since they’d started whatever it was they were doing, it was that such actions seemed to come as easily to Sung Hyunjae as breathing.
They seemed somehow as essential to him, as well.
“Admit it,” Han Yoojin accused, running his hand over the bed and letting petals sink between his fingers like silk. He wondered how they would feel against the rest of him, and reached up to unbutton his shirt. “You’re a romantic at heart, Hyunjae-ssi.”
Sung Hyunjae smiled, mischievous and bright as lightning. Striding lazily forward, he rested one knee on the mattress and then proceeded to let the weight of his body press Yoojin down to the bed.
“Admit it?” Sung Hyunjae asked. “When have I ever tried to hide it?”